Checkmate
by Fleurette Chauvelin
Summary: Vivian, a girl with a dark past and mysterious powers, comes to Hogwarts. Not only does she have to struggle to put the past behind her, she must also defeat the evil within herself. The last thing she needs is a vendetta with Snape...NOW COMPLETE!!!
1.

Checkmate 

Checkmate 

1. 

They didn't get many cars in that part of the world. As Vivian slammed the car door shut a crowd of bats rose from the nearby trees in a frightened cloud, and vanished into the turbulent darkness. Vivian looked curiously around her, but all that could be seen through the torrential rain was the dark outline of Hogwarts. 

"Come on." Said Vivian's cousin Lucy, who had managed to heave Vivian's trunk out of the car boot, "they're waiting for us." 

It was true: by the Hogwarts gates stood a tall figure wrapped in a cape. It was Dumbledore. Vivian recognised him from a picture in one of her books on great magical achievements - her mother and father had amassed a huge library of books, which were her most prized possessions. Lucy had been trying to drag the trunk across the drive, but Dumbledore strode over and put a hand on her arm. 

"Allow me." He shouted through the shriek of the wind. He muttered some words under his breath and the trunk was suddenly as light as air. Lucy gave a gasp of delighted amazement, which was lost in the wind. 

Dumbledore smiled cheerfully at them through the sheet of rain, and lead them up through the gates and into the school. They followed him up a moving stairway and into a warm room, which they realized must be his office. 

Dumbledore removed his dripping cloak and said 

"Welcome, welcome. You must be exhausted!" 

Lucy shook his proffered hand. 

"I'm Lucy Slane, Vivian's guardian." 

Lucy was taller than Vivian, but she could not have been more than nineteen or twenty at the most. Vivian knew she was bursting with excitement. Lucy had no magic powers herself, but she was wildly enthusiastic about all things magical, and a trip to Hogwarts was like a dream come true. 

"You look after Vivian alone?" asked Dumbledore. 

"Well…. since the tragedy." Replied Lucy, with a cautious look at Vivian, who pretended to be tying her shoelace. "I'm a music teacher," she continued, "so it's quite easy for me to work from home." 

"Of course." Said Dumbledore, with a kind smile. "I'm very pleased to see you at last, Vivian." He added, looking at Vivian, "I was glad to hear of your recovery." 

"Thank you." Replied Vivian, feeling suddenly shy. She was somewhat in awe of Dumbledore, having read all about his achievements, although he seemed nothing like the dignified wizard she had pictured. 

"We have an accomplished potions master at Hogwarts, who will be able to make up your healing draught each evening." Continued Dumbledore, "I'm sure after a term here your cousin won't recognise you!" 

Lucy smiled distractedly, Vivian could tell she was memorising the details of Dumbledore's office, and certainly there were enough curious and beautiful things to catch anyone's eye. Suddenly Vivian remembered something. 

"Um, excuse me Sir," she said, "Do you think I could try on the sorting hat?" 

"Yes of course." said Dumbledore cheerfully, "You don't have to call me sir by the way, in a few weeks you'll be calling me an old codger like the rest of the students - and some of the teachers if truth be known." 

Vivian laughed nervously, and crossed to the other side of the room, where the battered sorting hat lay. At once she heard a buzzing voice in her ear. 

"Well, if it isn't Vivian Leroux…. " Said the hat cheerfully, "Now what do we have here? Brains, good lord yes. Courage? If necessary. Ambitious too…. Where shall I put you?" 

Instantly Vivian saw herself in Slytherin. She felt the familiar surge of longing, to access the power which lay within her. How tempting it was… 

Not Slytherin, She though resolutely. 

"Not Slytheirn? Are you sure? You have that power you know." buzzed the hat. "Well then, better be RAVENCLAW." 

Vivian removed the hat. 

Dumbledore and Lucy were watching her proudly. 

"I'll show you to your dormitory, as everyone seems to be asleep." Said Dumbledore. "I've invited your cousin to stay the night here, seeing how terrible the weather is." He added with a smile. 

So that was what Lucy was looking so pleased about. At this rate she might actually be able to see some magic. Vivian grinned to herself as Dumbledore showed them down the labyrinth of corridors to the Ravenclaw common room, a cheerful, pentagonal shaped room, with a fireplace on each side of the pentagon. She was finally coming to Hogwarts! She had dreamed about it for years, but only now was she actually there at last. 

When she finally reached her dormitory, which had clean beds ready for her and Lucy, Vivian fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, and for once she was untroubled by nightmares. 

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	2. 

Checkmate 

Checkmate 

2. 

Snape had had another restless night, and as he swept into the dungeon the next morning he felt gloomier than usual. It was fifth year Griffindors and Ravenclaws first thing; they watched him nervously as he sat down and began to call the register. 

Suddenly there was a sound of running feet and the door swung open as a slight girl wearing blood-red robes hurried in. 

"Sorry." She said apologetically, and looked around for somewhere to sit. The rest of the class were looking at her in curiosity. 

"Sit down." Said Snape irritably, without looking up from his lesson notes, "You're five minutes late, so that's five points you've lost for…" 

"Ravenclaw." Said the Vivian. "I'm sorry, sir, I had to speak to Professor Vector…" 

"Sit down and shut up." Reiterated Snape. Vivian didn't move. He finally looked up, and their eyes met. 

Vivian was a small for her age; next to the other fifth-year girls she looked like a child, although she was already sixteen. What stuck you first was her paleness: the only physical mark of the curse she lived under was her skin, was the colour of paper. Her hair fell in loose waves to her waist; it was dark, almost black, with peculiar silver streaks in it. But it was her eyes that caught Snape's attention: they were a peculiar colour, half way between green and grey. 

Snape was not easily surprised, but for the space of about ten seconds he sat paralysed. Those eyes were Claudia Slane's eyes, closed forever beneath the cold earth. Who the hell was she? 

Vivian's eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Snape, taking in his unhealthy pallor and lank black hair. What are you doing here? Said her eyes, as clearly as if she had spoken. She gazed at him with a look of recognition and fear, which Snape found incomprehensible and strangely disturbing. 

He finally recollected himself. 

"Who are you?" he asked coldly. 

"Vivian Leroux. I'm new." Replied Vivian. 

"Well perhaps you could explain why you aren't wearing school uniform, before I take another five points from Ravenclaw." 

"Professor Dumbledore said it would be alright, until my school clothes arrive." 

"Very well." Said Snape irritably, "Sit down and be quiet." 

Vivian sat down at an empty desk and got her books out of her bag. 

"Don't worry about him," whispered a girl to her right, when Snape's back was turned, "he's like that with everybody." 

Vivian grinned ruefully at her, and busied herself with her schoolbooks. 

When she looked up again Snape was already explaining the lesson, rather more distractedly than usual. As the students began work on the potion they were supposed to be making, Snape stalked up and down between the rows of desks, making acid comments on their work. 

Vivian worked diligently. In truth she hadn't the faintest idea if she was making the potion correctly or not: although she had read about potions at home, she had always been too ill to make them. Something nagged her as she sliced the Sea-Parsley: she knew she had seen Snape before somewhere. She was just trying to work out how to use her new scales, when she looked up to see him standing over her. 

Suddenly without warning an image flashed through her mind: a sallow man, his black robes blowing in the breeze, standing on a lofty hilltop with a woman, whose silvery hair blew out behind her like a cloud. Below them a ruined village smouldered. 

Vivian could remember her parents a little: her father was tall, with dark hair. He had been clever and sarcastic, and surprisingly kind. She thought of her mother, with her attractive low laugh, and the sense of power that underlay everything she did. And the feeling of evil, which followed her wherever she went. 

Her mother and a man dressed in black. Each with a strange mark on their left forearm. 

All this flashed through her mind in an instant, and when she looked up at Snape she knew he had been a Death Eater. 

"Do you have the faintest idea what you are doing?" asked Snape in a soft, icy voice. 

"I think so." Said Vivian. She decided it was better not to say that she had never made a potion in her life. From the corner of her eye she saw the rest of the students look up from their steaming cauldrons to watch them. 

Silently Snape examined the mixture. 

"This is fine." He said grudgingly. "Especially considering it's the first potion you've ever made." 

Now how did he know that? 

Before Vivian could say anything else he had swept off to bully a Griffindor who by the sound of it had knocked Snape's lesson plans for the next fortnight into his cauldron full of potion. 

At last the lesson finished. The girl who had spoken to Vivian at the beginning of the lesson came over to her desk. 

"I'm Lorna." She said, "Are you in Ravenclaw?" 

"Yes," said Vivian, "I've only just arrived, I was too ill to come at the beginning of term." She turned to see if Snape was nearby before adding "Though if this lesson was anything to go by I wish I hadn't come at all!" 

Lorna smiled. 

"Oh that's just Snape-" she began in a quiet voice, but before she could say anything else they were interrupted by Snape, who said coldly: 

"Please wait behind, Miss Leroux." 

Lorna shot a consolatory look at Vivian, before gathering her books and leaving the dungeon. 

Vivian walked nervously to the front of the classroom, where Snape was sitting. 

"I have been told you require a Bene Liquidas potion each evening." 

Vivian nodded. This was the potion that had made her well enough to come to Hogwarts. It was a recently developed potion, and had to be made up fresh every day. 

"If you will come here each evening at six o clock, I will have the potion ready for you. If I'm not here it will be on my desk." Continued Snape. 

"Thank you." Said Vivian. 

"You can go." 

Vivian left the dungeon hurriedly, her thoughts in a whirl. She decided the best thing to do would be to warn Dumbledore as soon as possible, and tell him that he had a Death Eater on his staff. 

Back in the dungeon, Snape sat with his head in his hands, remembering all that had passed between him and Claudia Slane. 

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	3. 

3.  
  
As soon as lesson finished for morning break, Snape made his way to Dumbledore's office. Soon he had climbed the moving stairway and was knocking on the door.  
  
"Severus!" exclaimed Dumbledore, wrenching open the door, "Come in."  
  
Dumbledore went over to the desk and sat down. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, eyed Snape inscrutably from his perch on the window ledge.  
  
"Sherbet lemon?" asked Dumbledore, proffering an attractive glass bowl full of sweets.  
  
"No thank you." Said Snape shortly. Then before he could stop himself he added:  
  
"Who is the Leroux girl?"  
  
Dumbledore looked mildly surprised.  
  
"I thought you of all people would have realized." He said. "She is the daughter of Anton Leroux and Claudia Slane."  
  
"Anton Leroux?" exclaimed Snape incredulously, "but he was one of the most famous aurors in France-"  
  
"And she was Lord Voldemort's most valued supporter." Finished Dumbledore. He gave a strange smile. "Funny how things work out, isn't it?"  
  
"I never knew." Said Snape. "I worked alongside her-" he broke off suddenly.  
  
"And loved her."  
  
"Nothing gets past you, does it?" Said Snape, with a half-amused, half-exasperated look.  
  
"My dear Severus, I can read you like a book. No one knew they had a child. No one knew they were married. How would anyone guess? The idea was absolutely incredible. I only know all this because I was one of Anton's closest friends. They were besotted with each other. When they got married they promised each other they would abandon their separate ways of life: she would finish her activities for Voldemort, he would give up his work as an auror."  
  
"What happened?" asked Snape eagerly.  
  
"The inevitable." Replied Dumbledore with a sigh. "After six years, Claudia went back to Voldemort. When Anton found out he left, taking the child with him. Claudia wasn't a woman to be crossed, as no doubt you knew. She cursed her daughter. No one knows precisely what it did to her, but it was a miracle she survived at all.. Anton was beyond reason, he went after Claudia."  
  
"And they destroyed each other." Said Snape. A feeling of great bitterness welled up inside him. Those two had loved each other passionately and fatally. She had never cared for him. He had been a fool to imagine otherwise. Being Snape, all he did was take a deep breath and pause for a few seconds before saying: "He was the only man she ever feared."  
  
"And she was the only person Anton was afraid of."  
  
There was silence for a few minutes.  
  
At last Snape spoke:  
  
"Why didn't you tell me she was coming here?" he asked  
  
"I didn't think it would matter, it all happened so long ago." Replied Dumbledore, "Maybe I should have told you. She must have given you a nasty jolt, springing out of the blue, with her mother's eyes to boot. But you were exactly the same when Harry Potter came here last year looking so much like his father, and there weren't any problems then, were there?"  
  
Snape looked up suspiciously, but Dumbledore seemed perfectly serious.  
  
"Well, apart from that time when he thought you were trying to kill him." Conceded Dumbledore, in answer to Snape's glare. There was another pause.  
  
"I suppose their marriage was hushed up." Snape said at last.  
  
"Well naturally. As were their deaths, and Vivian's birth. It didn't really reflect credit to either side. A highly respected auror, married to one of the most renowned Death Eaters! It was unthinkable."  
  
"Of course." Said Snape. He stood up. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."  
  
"Not at all Severus." Replied Dumbledore politely.  
  
Snape left silently, his mind busy. As he strode down the corridor, he was slightly disconcerted to meet Vivian, wearing a worried expression and hurrying in the direction of Dumbledore's study.  
  
She was lucky. As she stood outside, wondering what the password was to get into the study, the wall opened and Dumbledore appeared.  
  
"Did you want to speak to me?" he asked.  
  
"Yes please, if that's alright." Replied Vivian nervously.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Once they were both seated comfortably in Dumbledore's study, with Fawkes perched on Dumbledore's chair, Vivian began.  
  
"You know my mother, she was - "  
  
"A Death Eater." Finished Dumbledore, "Please continue."  
  
"Well she used to have people to the house, when Dad wasn't around. I mean Voldemort's supporters. I only realised that was what they were when I was older. Professor Snape was one of them. I recognised him this morning. I thought I should come and warn you."  
  
"You did well." Said Dumbledore kindly. As he spoke Fawkes flew from his perch on Dumbledore's chair and settled on Vivian's lap. She felt glad of the comforting warm weight; recalling her past was never easy.  
  
Dumbledore continued: "But in this case there is no need to worry. Professor Snape was indeed a Death Eater, but he abandoned Lord Voldemort before his downfall, and became a spy for our side."  
  
"But how do you know that he's really left Voldemort?" asked Vivian suspiciously.  
  
"Maybe he'll explain it to you himself one of these days." Said Dumbledore. "But can I ask you keep this information to yourself? It's not our secret."  
  
"Of course, I won't say a word." Said Vivian, "I just thought maybe he was a spy or something."  
  
"Naturally." Said Dumbledore kindly, "Thank you for telling me. There isn't anything else bothering you is there?"  
  
Vivian thought about the worry which she had lived with since she had learnt her parents' story, the fear of what she might become. The sorting hat's words came back to her: you have that power. It was a heavy weight, and she thought of confiding in Dumbledore her long struggle against the power inside her, but her habitual reserve still dominated.  
  
"Nothing else." She replied, rising to leave.  
  
Dumbledore watched her leave with a thoughtful expression.  
  
"Power." He murmured to Fawkes. 


	4. 

4.  
  
Her eyes were green-grey, glittering in the twilight. She was laughing at him, a sensation that he found unbearable and at the same time strangely exhilarating. She had ensnared him, and he knew it. As long as she lived he could never turn against Voldemort.  
  
"See you tomorrow." She had said brightly. She smiled; again he felt that mixture of loathing and longing as he watched her leave. For her there had been no tomorrow. But somewhere she was still laughing at him.  
  
*  
  
As soon as Snape got back to his office, he unlocked a cupboard and brought out an ancient muggle kettle and a tin of leaf tea, and with unsteady hands he began to make himself a cup of tea. He could of course have procured the drink in half the time using magical means, but he preferred the slower, muggle way: he found the leisurely ritual strangely comforting. He had acquired this habit when he was younger and it had stuck, although he tried to keep it a profound secret.  
  
He thought of Claudia as he set the kettle to boil on the fire (an electric kettle would have been useless, even if Hogwarts had had electricity, the magical atmosphere meant that nothing electric could work in the vicinity.) A picture of her as he had last seen her slid into his disordered brain: she was setting off to meet a famous auror, she had said with unholy glee. They all knew that the man was doomed. (So was she, but they weren't to know that) Snape had offered to accompany her, but she had refused with a strange smile. Of course, it made sense now. How surprised he would have been to realise that that man she was meeting was her husband.  
  
Had she known she was going to her death, and the death of the man she loved? Maybe she had, Snape thought, maybe she appreciated the danger, the strange mixture of love and hate that bound her to Anton Leroux. He felt suddenly excluded, shut out from this strange intense relationship.  
  
Voldemort had suppressed all reference to Claudia or her death. Well, now he knew why.  
  
Somewhere in the castle a bell rang, startling him out of his reverie. It would soon be time for lessons. Hurriedly he began tidying away the kettle and the dirty mug, in his haste he left the key in the lock instead of putting it back in his pocket. It was not until he was sorting out his books for the next lesson that he remembered Vivian.  
  
He felt a stab of dislike towards her. Why did she have to turn up here, of all places, staring at him so insolently out of her mother's eyes? He tried to think rationally: Vivian was not Claudia. Even in the small space of time he had know her that was obvious. Claudia had had charm, vivacity, colour. The brat might have inherited her mother's brains, but she certainly hadn't inherited her personality.  
  
Still, it was irritating.  
  
  
  
*  
  
When Vivian burst into Snape's office at quarter past six, she found the room empty. On Snape's desk lay a goblet of steaming sky-blue liquid, and a terse note:  
  
Late again, Miss Leroux.  
  
This is the Bene Liquidas potion you require. On no account add sugar, this will make it useless.  
  
"That's friendly." Said Vivian to herself. The note was unsigned, but it was obviously from Snape, who seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her. She thought about what Dumbledore had said. She had tried to believe him, but in her heart of hearts she was sure Snape was still in league with Voldemort. Memories were coming back to her now, and the more she could recall of the vague man in black who had taught her the first curse she had ever known, the more she mistrusted him.  
  
People don't change, she told herself.  
  
She picked up the steaming goblet; she knew from experience how foul the potion tasked, it was better to drink it without thinking about it. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed the mixture in two gulps.  
  
"Ugh!" she gasped. She looked around for something to wash her mouth out with. There was a small, rather dirty-looking sink in a corner of Snape's office, to which she rushed over and began to drink from. She wished Lorna had come with her, but Lorna had flatly refused to go anywhere near Snape's office.  
  
"And neither would you if you had any sense!" she had said. The fact that Snape's office contained the potion that was in effect keeping Vivian alive she dismissed a minor detail. It certainly wasn't a nice place to be: Snape seemed to be making a collection of slimy things in jars, and it obviously hadn't been dusted in years. Vivian decided to leave as quickly as possible, and was already halfway across the room when she spotted the small cupboard, which had the key still in the lock.  
  
Don't be stupid, she told herself; he could be back any minute. But she was certain Snape was still a Death Eater. Surely this was a wonderful opportunity to prove it?  
  
With trembling hands, she unlocked the cupboard. With bated breath she drew out the kettle. It took her a minute to realize what it was, and then she laughed, and realized she had been stupid. It would be something funny to put in her letter to Lucy. She was about to fling it back in the cupboard when she caught sight of something else lying at the back: a small, rather badly printed book: Shakespeare's Sonnets.  
  
Inside was written: "To Claudia." Nothing else. Vivian flicked through the book, her thoughts in a whirl. Suddenly her gaze froze on two lines that had been underlined in pencil:  
  
"So true a fool is love that in your will / though you do anything, he thinks no ill."  
  
Before she could do anything else she heard footsteps on the stairs.  
  
Franticly she flung the book back into the cupboard and locked it, and then walked hurriedly to the table where the empty goblet stood. Ten seconds later Snape stalked in. He glared at Vivian and said shortly  
  
"Have you taken the potion?"  
  
"Yes." Said Vivian. "Thank you for making it." She added reluctantly.  
  
"Don't mention it. Perhaps next time you will be more punctual." Said Snape irritably. He had obviously meant this as a dismissal, but Vivian stood still, her eyes fixed on him, her mind busy with what she had found in the cupboard. Was the book really addressed to her mother?  
  
"Yes?" snapped Snape, when he realised she was still there.  
  
"Nothing." She said hastily, turning to go. "Nice chess set." She added over her shoulder. There was something defiant about the way she said this, but before Snape could think of a suitable reply she was gone.  
  
Snape stared crossly at the empty goblet. She seemed so meek and docile, he thought irritably, and then when you least expected it she would suddenly turn insolent. He was actually extremely proud of his chess set, which stood in a remote corner of the office. It was exquisitely carved out of black and white glass, and stood on an elegant wooden table. It was one of the few things he had inherited from his father.  
  
He shrugged irascibly and dismissed Vivian from his mind.  
  
He began his marking with a vague sense of dissatisfaction. 


	5. 

5.  
  
It was Halloween. Vivian was watching the rain dripping down the windows of the Ravenclaw common room. She had been trying to finish her divination homework, but she wasn't really in the mood. Her mind kept turning back to the book she had found in Snape's office a few weeks ago.  
  
It had to have been addressed to her mother. Snape had known her; she could remember his visits to the small cottage where she had lived with her parents. A fondness for muggle literature was one of the peculiarities she had inherited from them, she had never met anyone else in the wizard world who cared about it: most people seemed to look non-magical reading as a bad habit.  
  
The words came back to her suddenly: "so true a fool is love."  
  
No. She thought. That can't be. It could of course, and the more she thought about it the more obvious it seemed. Everyone had loved her mother. The book could only have been addressed to her. She tried to picture Snape in love, and the idea made her burst out laughing. A few people turned to look at her, but she ignored them.  
  
All the same, the idea was unpleasant, and she dismissed it from her mind.  
  
A few minutes later, Lorna came in. She was drenched, and covered in mud.  
  
"What on earth have you been up to?" Said Vivian.  
  
"Quidditch practice." Said Lorna moodily. She was a ferocious beater for the Ravenclaw house team. "Can I borrow your shampoo?"  
  
"Yeah, sure."  
  
Vivian watched her go with a sense of achievement. She had never had friends before, she had been too ill, and before that she had been too shy. True, she was hardly the most popular person in Ravenclaw, but she had a few close friends, which was all she had wanted.  
  
She turned back to her Divination work, but before she had made any headway she was interrupted again, this time by Marcus Fowler, a Ravenclaw fifth year she knew by sight, but had never spoken to. He had light hair and handsome, deceptively ascetic face. Lorna, she knew, had a crush on him, but she had always avoided him; she might have admired him at a distance but he didn't belong to her world. He was too good-looking, too confident, too charismatic.  
  
"Hi." She said.  
  
"I've got bad news." He said with mock solemnity, "Snape wants to see you, and he looks livid."  
  
Vivian glanced at the clock. It was seven o clock.  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
No wonder Snape was livid. She had completely forgotten about the potion in the excitement of the Halloween feast.  
  
She jumped up and began to run.  
  
"Thank you!" she called over her shoulder as she fled.  
  
Marcus Fowler sat down and coolly began to copy Vivian's Divination homework.  
  
"Strange kid." He commented to himself.  
  
*  
  
Vivian knocked nervously on the door to Snape's office.  
  
"Come in!" she heard Snape bark, and reluctantly she opened the door and stepped inside.  
  
Snape was sitting at his desk, marking essays, and she could tell that he was furious.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said at once. Snape didn't reply, so she shut the door and walked over to his desk. Silence.  
  
"It won't happen again." She tried. The words sounded feeble, stupid. Snape finally looked up.  
  
"Do you know how long I wasted brewing that potion?" he asked in a soft, dangerous voice.  
  
"No."  
  
"An hour and a half."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"You will be." He replied nastily. "The ingredients I used were extremely expensive. They are now wasted. Once the brew becomes cold it becomes useless."  
  
Vivian said nothing. She had already said sorry, what more could she do? There was an unpleasant pause.  
  
"Why did you do this?" asked Snape finally.  
  
"I forgot."  
  
"You forgot?" Snape's voice dripped sarcasm. Vivian could tell he was enjoying the opportunity to indulge his dislike for her.  
  
"You were careless." He said nastily, as if she were a small child. "What were you?"  
  
Vivian could hardly bring herself to answer.  
  
"Careless." She finally muttered.  
  
"Exactly." Snape left another pause, whilst he turned his attention back to the pile of essays.  
  
Finally he said:  
  
"No doubt you are already feeling the effects of missing the potion." Suddenly she was feeling sick and dizzy, and could barely stand, she had to grip the desk for support; it was as if Snape had somehow called the symptoms into being.  
  
Vivian nodded, loathing him. He was watching her pitilessly.  
  
" You loose ten points from Ravenclaw." He said, "And you will stay here and help me prepare another brew of the potion."  
  
"Shall I do the dusting as well?" she muttered under her breath.  
  
Snape looked sharply up at her, but seemed to decide she hadn't spoken.  
  
"You can start boiling the water." He said.  
  
*  
  
They had been working for half an hour when there the sound of raised voices disturbed the silent office. Snape looked up from the cauldron and went to the door. He listened for a few minutes and then said:  
  
"Stay here and carry on working." He might hate the sight of her, but she was clever enough to keep making the potion by herself for ten minutes or so. He swept off without another word.  
  
Vivian was by this time shaking uncontrollably. She sat down and tried to steady herself. In truth she could hardly stand, another half an hour and for all she knew she might be unconscious. She breathed deeply and tried to shake the horrible, drained feeling.  
  
How dare he? Had he any idea what working over a hot cauldron meant for someone in her state? As she shivered she felt herself hate him. Somehow she would get him back for this. She had another sense of the power within her, this time with a mixture of reverence and elation, as if she were testing the sharp edge of a sword.  
  
It was half an hour later before Snape returned.  
  
He glanced at the potion.  
  
"This is ready." He said shortly. Eagerly Vivian poured herself a goblet full and drank it hastily, for once not caring about the taste.  
  
Then she turned unsteadily to go; it was hard to walk, the room seemed to be spinning.  
  
"Miss Leroux." She spun round.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You might be interested to know that Mr Filch's cat has just been found petrified."  
  
"Really?" she said sarcastically. She realized that Snape was watching her carefully.  
  
"Sit down." He said dispassionately, "You're not in a fit state to walk anywhere yet."  
  
Vivian sat down, realising he was right. If she hadn't she would have fallen. He was still watching her; it was unnerving.  
  
Snape was thinking quickly. He had about ten minutes grace before Vivian would be able to leave. He needed to set her talking.  
  
He thinks I did it, Vivian realised suddenly. How she knew this she wasn't sure, but she could have staked her life that Snape held her responsible for whatever had happened to the cat. It must be because of her mother.  
  
Snape had, true to form, tried to put the blame on Harry Potter, who unaccountably seemed to have discovered the cat, but in his heart he knew that this was impossible. The heir of Slytherin. The daughter of Claudia Slane. It made sense.  
  
"Perhaps whilst you're waiting you could try a game of chess on the board you admired so much." Said Snape. How ridiculous, he thought, to be playing chess with Claudia Slane's daughter. It was not a particularly good way to involve her in conversation, but he supposed it would have to do. It was better than trying to talk to her. From the look on her face he could tell that she loathed him.  
  
Vivian tried to think of an excuse. She might have to wait in the office until she felt better, but that didn't mean she wanted to play board games with Snape.  
  
"I'm not very good."  
  
"You'll learn."  
  
Seeing that there was no alternative, Vivian sat down at the elegant chessboard, and the game began. 


	6. 

6.  
  
It is hard to play chess when the room is spinning and you felt as if you might be sick any minute, so on the whole Vivian was quite pleased with how she played, especially since it was obviously an excuse for Snape to try to interrogate her about something she hadn't done.  
  
He was an expert questioner, she realised, after about five minutes. He was calm, clever and infuriatingly urbane, with a deceptively nonchalant manner. Almost effortlessly he seemed to establish where she had been, at what time and with whom. "He probably picked it up when he was a death eater", Vivian thought scornfully  
  
. As she was completely innocent she had nothing to fear, but all the same, there was something disconcerting about his level calculating stare, and she was glad when ten minutes later she could finally stand up and leave.  
  
"Try to be on time tomorrow." Snape taunted, as she walked unsteadily towards the door. Vivian left without an answer.  
  
Snape irritably began to clear away the dirty cauldron and potions equipment. He was annoyed. She had to have done it, yet she was so clear about where she had been, and probably had an alibi into the bargain.  
  
He told himself not to be childish. He had no real proof that she had done anything; it would be foolish to become preoccupied by it. Probably a student prank, nothing more. It was the sort of thing the Weasly twins would do, he thought wryly, everyone hated the cat anyway. Or was he doing them an injustice? They had admittedly never gone in for cruelty to animals.  
  
I need more sleep, he told himself. It was true, but this didn't explain why he was getting so worked up about a petrified cat.  
  
The heir of Slytherin. Why did it sound so familiar?  
  
Something was bothering him.  
  
  
  
*  
  
Back in the Ravenclaw common room, Vivian ran into Lorna, who was looking radiant.  
  
"Marcus wants me to go into Hogsmeade with him tomorrow!" she cried, before Vivian could say anything. "What's the matter?" she added, seeing Vivian's look of gloom.  
  
"Nothing," Vivian replied, "Snape just had a go at me."  
  
"Oh you poor thing." Lorna said sympathetically, "But isn't it great?" she added, her smile returning.  
  
Vivian grinned at her.  
  
"It's brilliant! Thank heaven I don't have to listen to you swooning about him any more!"  
  
"Charming!" replied Lorna, "For that you can help me decide what to wear."  
  
"You look good in everything, damn you." Said Vivian, "just put on whatever falls out of your wardrobe."  
  
At this point Harriet and Diana, the two other Ravenclaw girls who shared their dormitory came up, and began gushing about how lucky Lorna was, and how gorgeous Marcus was, and how they'd always known they'd get together because Lorna was stunning, and by the time the four of them climbed to the stairs to bed Lorna was too excited to do anything but anguish over what to wear and dance around the room whilst the others got changed for bed.  
  
Harriet and Diana fell asleep almost immediately, but Vivian decided to read for a bit, when she noticed that Lorna was sitting at the window, still fully dressed. She looked feverish.  
  
"Aren't you going to bed?" Vivian asked.  
  
"Later."  
  
Time slipped by. Somewhere a clock chimed eleven.  
  
"Shouldn't you be going to bed?" asked Vivian, as she watched Lorna pacing in front of the window.  
  
"I can't sleep."  
  
Vivian looked at her with concern. She looked flushed and excited. Vivian realised with surprise that Lorna was nervous. It seemed almost incredible, Lorna was so pretty, with her long auburn hair and clear grey eyes, all the boys wanted to go out with her. Marcus must be special. Vivian watched her pacing restlessly with a sense of unease. She longed to relieve her unhappiness, but it would mean sharing something that had belonged to her mother. Briefly she struggled as she watched Lorna.  
  
"Um, I have something that might work." She said at last, "help you get to sleep I mean."  
  
"Really?" said Lorna eagerly.  
  
Vivian climbed out of bed and produced a long narrow case "My mother used to get me to sleep with it when I was little." She said, unlocking the box with a small golden key she wore round her neck on a narrow chain.  
  
"Oh my god." Breathed Lorna, "How much is that worth?"  
  
It was a deep red violin, polished so that it gleamed in the moonlight; the bow strung with unicorn hair. Vivian handled it as if it was very precious. In the gloom of the dormitory it seemed to glow with a life of its own.  
  
"Is it magic?" asked Lorna.  
  
Vivian felt a sudden surge of happiness: she had a friend with whom she could share something precious.  
  
"A bit." She replied to Lorna. "If you go and lie down, I can probably make you sleep."  
  
Obediently, Lorna crossed the room to her four-poster bed and lay down.  
  
Vivian began to play, a soft, strange, lilting music, tinged with magic. Strangely enough, Harriet and Diana didn't wake, if anything they seemed to sleep more soundly. The last thing Lorna saw before she fell asleep was the movement of Vivian's arms in the moonlight as she played.  
  
*  
  
Vivian played for about five minutes more out of sheer pleasure. There was something strangely satisfying about it, and she knew from experience that she would wake nobody unless she wanted it. Then at last she lovingly dusted the violin and put it away, locking the case.  
  
Before getting into bed, she opened the window to take a look at the moon. The window faced the forbidden forest, and as she gazed at the moonlit grounds, she saw something moving in the grounds - a dark gliding shape. Vivian felt a sudden shock of fear. The figure moved into a patch of moonlight, and she realised that it was Snape.  
  
Why was he patrolling the grounds?  
  
As she gazed at him, he looked up at her. She drew her head back in shock. Then she rallied. She wasn't doing anything wrong, if anything, he was the one acting suspiciously.  
  
"Oh get a life." She muttered sarcastically. To her horror the words were much louder that she intended, and Snape, who had obviously heard, looked sharply in her direction, as if he could see who it was. Vivian withdrew her head, shaking with stifled laughter. When she had composed herself again, Snape was gone.  
  
It was a beautiful night. She paused before shutting the window; suddenly she became aware of a presence: it was a unicorn. Vivian stood motionless; the unicorn was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It stood at the edge of the forest, frozen like a noble statue. Then it looked up and saw Vivian. There was no doubt in her mind that it could see her.  
  
Vivian and the unicorn gazed into each other's eyes for a moment. Then, slowly, gracefully, the unicorn kneeled. Vivian gave a suppressed gasp, and then, collecting her wits, bowed her head awkwardly in acknowledgement. Then the unicorn was gone. 


	7. 

7.  
  
Lorna was in ecstasies the next day about Vivian's gift for music, and made Vivian promise Diana and Harriet a demonstration. Vivian didn't mention that she had seen a unicorn to anyone, although she relayed the Snape incident to Lorna, Harriet and Diana over breakfast to a chorus of laughter.  
  
"It's obvious what he's doing," said Lorna, "he's trying to catch the heir of Slytherin!" Vivian suddenly knocked over her cup of coffee, but the others were too busy looking solemn to notice. Rumours had been circulating wildly since the attack on Mrs Norris, and people were speculating wildly about who or what the heir of Slytherin actually was.  
  
"No, I know what he's really up to," said Diana, "he's stalking us!"  
  
They laughed, Vivian trying to dismiss the memory of the book she had found in Snape's office and her growing certainty that Snape had been in love with her mother. "Thanks for that," said Harriet, "now I'm really going to sleep soundly!"  
  
"He's so-" began Harriet, but Lorna gave her a vicious nudge: Snape was walking past their table. He gave them a particularly poisonous glare, and passed them in silence.  
  
"Wash your hair, mate." Diana said in a voice too low for Snape to hear. The four of them burst into suppressed laughter. Snape heard them giggling but forced himself not to look round. Honestly, these fifth years were simply impossible, especially the girls. He had always ignored them when he was at Hogwarts, ignored them as they sniggered behind his back, like this bunch were doing now. Only with the Slytherins had he found companionship of a sort. A peculiar, cold kind of fellowship at best, but still better than nothing.  
  
It was a flying lesson first thing, which Vivian was forbidden from taking part in because she was still so weak. In truth, despite the potion she felt somewhat worse than she had done a month ago: sometimes she had dizzy spells even when she had taken the potion, and a couple of times she had been forced to spend the day in bed, afflicted with a blinding headache and nausea.  
  
Harriet, Lorna and Diana left Vivian at the breakfast table, as they had to hurry outside. Vivian decided to linger over her breakfast, as usual the food was excellent, and she wanted to think about what she had seen last night. Why had the unicorn saluted her? And was Snape really trying to catch the heir of Slytherin?  
  
"That would explain why he's hanging around outside our window." She thought. She decided to speak to Snape and explain that she was completely innocent and if necessary could produce alibis. What had started out as rather amusing was becoming serious. Before she had time to consider this further, she was interrupted by a voice:  
  
"Excuse me." It was a second year, Hermione Granger. It was unusual for students to have very close friendships with people in different years, but perhaps because Vivian seemed so shy and young for a fifth year, or because Hermione was so assured for her age, they had become friends after quarrelling over a book they both wanted to borrow from the library.  
  
Vivian smiled up at her.  
  
"Hi." She said, "Sit down."  
  
Hermione perched next to Vivian.  
  
"I'm in a bit of a hurry," she said, glancing nervously at her watch, "I just thought I'd stop and ask you if you had a copy of "Hogwarts: a history" I could borrow."  
  
"Sorry," said Vivian regretfully, "ours is a first edition, so I'm not allowed to take it out of the house."  
  
"A first edition!" Hermione gasped. "You lucky thing!"  
  
"It was my father's." Vivian replied.  
  
"Oh." Said Hermione. She looked suddenly awkward.  
  
"It's alright, he died when I was little."  
  
"I've read about him of course," Hermione said eagerly, "he was a brilliant auror by all accounts."  
  
"Yes, he was." Vivian replied, "But you must be the first person here who's ever heard of him."  
  
Hermione sniffed.  
  
"People here don't read." She answered scornfully; Vivian could tell this was a long-standing complaint.  
  
"I know how you feel." She replied fervently. People had treated her as if she was weird when she produced a battered copy of "Jane Eyre" in the common room.  
  
Hermione looked at her watch again.  
  
"I'm going to be late!" she exclaimed, as if the world was about to end. Before Vivian could say anything else, Hermione leaped to her feet and dashed off, calling a hasty "bye!" over her shoulder as she ran. Vivian hadn't had a chance to ask her what she needed the book for, but she didn't really need to. It was the heir of Slytherin again.  
  
*  
  
Vivian had been prepared to argue her innocence with Snape that evening, but when she arrived she found the office empty, with a smoking goblet lying on the desk. She drank the potion quickly, and shuddered. Was it her imagination, or was the potion beginning to taste worse?  
  
She was used to the gloom of the office by now, even the collection of slimy things in jars seemed rather commonplace; she glanced around her as she prepared to go, and caught sight of the chessboard standing in a corner of the room, still set out from when she and Snape had used it before.  
  
She crossed the room and studied the board. Then she moved the black rook four paces right.  
  
"Check." She murmured softly, and turned to go with a strange feeling of satisfaction.  
  
*  
  
It was quite late; Vivian began to hurry in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room. Strangely enough, she was beginning to feel rather ill. She was walking down the corridor past the transfiguration classroom when she fainted. The walls seemed to dissolve into a brown swirl; dimly she felt conscious that she was falling, but she was unconscious by the time her head smashed into the floor.  
  
*  
  
Snape was marking first year essays when Professor McGonagall rushed in looking distracted.  
  
"It's Vivian Leroux!" she said, before Snape could say anything, "She's fainted."  
  
Snape swore softly to himself, and reluctantly stood up.  
  
"Where is she?" he asked  
  
"Just outside." Professor McGonagall replied. Snape gave her a sharp look. She was obviously upset, he realised with surprise - he had never seen her at such a loss before.  
  
"Sit down," he said, conjuring a cup of tea onto his desk, " you drink that and I'll take her to the hospital wing."  
  
"She's. Bad." Said Professor McGonagall faintly, "Twitching. And her head's bleeding."  
  
Snape hastily climbed the steps and looked around. Vivian was lying on the corridor floor. Her head was bleeding from a cut, he supposed she must have caught it on something as she fell, and her hands were twitching in some kind of spasm. It was an unpleasant enough sight, but Snape didn't flinch. Instead he magicked a stretcher for her, which floated in mid air, and slowly he began steering it towards the hospital wing.  
  
Typical. Trust the girl to faint and interrupt his work. She looked fragile, almost childlike as she lay there unconscious. With her eyes shut he could perceive a faint resemblance to her mother in the delicacy of her bone structure. Snape couldn't find it in himself to pity her. Not much, anyway. She had obviously not taken the potion on time, or something like that. It was clearly her own fault.  
  
Unless.  
  
With a sharp exclamation he seized Vivian's wrist. He could make out a faint symbol traced over the pale skin through which the veins were clearly visible. A figure eight drawn sideways on: the sign for infinity.  
  
"No." he whispered. "No." 


	8. 

8.  
  
When Vivian came to she was lying in a pleasant room with large windows and a small fireplace where a friendly fire was burning. She realised that she must be in the medical wing. Gingerly she sat up, and realised that her head was bandaged.  
  
Madam Pomfrey bustled over to her with a smile.  
  
"Awake at last are you?" she said kindly. "You had us all worried!"  
  
"What happened?" asked Vivian dazedly.  
  
"You fainted yesterday evening." Replied Madam Pomfrey, "You didn't forget to take your potion did you?"  
  
"No," Vivian said, "I'd already taken in when I fainted."  
  
Madam Pomfrey looked faintly concerned.  
  
"Well anyway," she said "you'd better get some rest; you certainly chose a bad time to be ill, you'll miss the Quidditch match."  
  
Vivian sighed. She had never seen Quidditch before, and had been looking forward to the match between Griffindor and Slytherin.  
  
"There'll be plenty more." Said Madam Pomfrey consolingly, "Now drink this, it'll make you sleep."  
  
Vivian drank obediently, and lay back on the soft pillows. In a few seconds she was asleep.  
  
*  
  
"I must say I am very concerned." Said Snape. He was pacing the floor in Dumbledore's study. Dumbledore himself was sitting at his desk; Fawkes perched on the back of his chair.  
  
"The mark, you say, was the sign of a curse?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Yes. " Snape replied shortly.  
  
"You've seen it before then?"  
  
"Yes." Snape said with an effort, "I saw it before when I was -" - for a second he hesitated - " a death eater. But those who bore this mark were always dead."  
  
Dumbledore said nothing. Only the intensity of his gaze betrayed that he was interested and indeed alarmed.  
  
"What was the nature of this curse?" he asked Snape softly.  
  
*  
  
Vivian slept for hours. When she awoke again she was lying, not in the hospital wing, but in her dormitory.  
  
She looked around her dazedly, trying to work out what had happened. She heard someone say, "She's awake!" and looking up she saw Harriet bending over her.  
  
"I thought I was in the hospital wing." Vivian said confusedly.  
  
" You were," replied Harriet, "but they had to move you - " she broke off as Diana approached.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey said you're not supposed to talk to her!" Diana scolded, "She needs to rest. You go and get Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"Fine!" said Harriet, looking slightly disgruntled, and she hurried off.  
  
"How do you feel?" Diana asked, "Do you need another pillow?"  
  
"I'm alright," Vivian said, remembering that Diana had once said she wanted to work at St Mungo's as a mediwizard; no doubt this was an excellent opportunity for her to practise her bedside manner.  
  
"So why was I moved?" Vivian asked.  
  
"I'm not supposed to talk to you." Said Diana reluctantly; Vivian could tell she was struggling between the urge to be the first to tell Vivian the news (which must be pretty interesting, judging from Diana's look of suppressed excitement) and Madam Pomfrey's instructions. Finally she said:  
  
"Well I'll tell you what happened. But don't blame me if you have a relapse!"  
  
"Get on with it!" Vivian replied.  
  
"Well," Diana said importantly, "after the Quidditch match (which Griffindor won, thank god)-"  
  
"-Hang on!" Vivian interrupted, "The Quidditch match is tomorrow!"  
  
"Yesterday." Diana corrected. "That's what comes of being unconscious. You miss stuff. Anyway don't interrupt or I won't finish. The night after the match, they found that first year Colin Creevy Petrified!"  
  
"What!" Vivian exclaimed, sitting up in bed. Diana gave her a stern look.  
  
"Lie down or I won't finish!" she said with mock severity.  
  
"Get on with it!" Vivian said again. "Do they know who did it?"  
  
"No idea." Diana replied, "Everyone's talking about the heir of Slytherin. But it's only a matter of time before Dumbledore catches the weirdo who did it and expels them."  
  
Vivian lay silently for a few minutes thinking. She had only known Colin by sight, but she was still rather shocked to hear that he was Petrified. Then something else occurred to her. If there had been another attack whilst she was unconscious, she couldn't possibly have done it. Therefore Snape couldn't suspect her any more. "Hope he feels really stupid." She thought to herself with a twisted smile.  
  
"So why was I moved?" she asked at last.  
  
"Well you were having convulsions." Diana said "moaning and twitching like mad, it really freaked me out having you in here, but Madam Pomfrey said you would disturb the other sick people (you disturbed us as well, but no one seems to care about that!) And anyway she said you're not to get up until further notice, so you might as well be somewhere comfortable."  
  
"I don't believe it!" Vivian said, "I have to stay in bed?! That's ridiculous, I don't even feel ill!"  
  
"Shh!" said Diana, as footsteps sounded on the staircase outside the dormitory, "Act like I haven't been talking to you!"  
  
Vivian lay limply back on the pillow as Madam Pomfrey followed, with Harriet behind her.  
  
Madam Pomfrey examined her and took her temperature. She also gave Vivian a goblet of the Bene Liquidas potion to drink, extra concentrated to make up for the doses Vivian had missed, which Vivian drank with a grimace and a couple of words Madam Pomfrey pretended not to hear. Despite Vivian's protests that she felt completely normal, her plea to be allowed to get up was flatly refused. It was not until Madam Pomfrey had left, leaving a hot water bottle, a small goblet of sleeping potion and a bowl of chicken soup that Vivian thought to ask:  
  
"Where's Lorna?"  
  
Diana and Harriet looked at each other.  
  
"We're not sure." 


	9. 

9.  
  
Vivian stared at them.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"She got a letter in herbology this morning." Harriet said, "I don't know what it said but it must have been pretty bad - she just went completely white and stormed out, she looked absolutely devastated."  
  
"And you haven't seen her since?" Vivian asked.  
  
"No." Diana replied. "She hasn't been in any lessons. I've been looking everywhere for her but no one's seen her."  
  
Suddenly something occurred to Vivian.  
  
"It wasn't about that date she had with Marcus Fowler was it?" Vivian hadn't seen Lorna after the visit to Hogsmeade because by that time she had been lying unconscious in the hospital wing, so she had no idea if the date had been a success or not.  
  
"I don't think so." Harriet said, " I think it went pretty well. She didn't get back until eleven!"  
  
"And she seemed really pleased with herself." Diana added. "I think they're going out, but Lorna's so annoying, she won't tell you anything."  
  
"Well that's something." Vivian said.  
  
*  
  
Snape left Dumbledore's study with his mind busy. He had told Dumbledore everything he knew about the curse which Vivian seemed to have received: he had seen it before on the bodies of David and Gabrielle Knott, whom Claudia had tried unsuccessfully to win over to their cause. He shuddered, thinking of the charred, mangled bodies, each missing a face; only their wrists were intact, bearing an identical sign, the symbol of infinity. This curse combined inevitable death with hideous pain; this was all he could remember for sure, he hadn't even known what the curse was called. Claudia Slane had known how to keep her secrets - she had probably realised his loyalties were wavering. He had never even seen her perform the curse; Avada kedavra had been a different matter: he could see her now, her beauty taking on a diabolical edge in the green light..but all that was over now.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" he had asked Dumbledore, already knowing the answer.  
  
"I want you to research this curse," Dumbledore had replied, "and to remember all you can about Claudia's methods of killing. You're obviously the best person for the job. We need to know all we can. I'll also contact the experts at St Mungo's."  
  
Snape sighed. Not only did he now have to waste his time and intelligence on a brat who would never appreciate them, he also had to recall the past he had tried to shut out forever. Trust Vivian to survive a fatal curse, he thought with a wry smile, and then scowled as he remembered Harry Potter, who had done exactly the same. Damn him.  
  
Then his mind returned to the curse. There was something he knew, a clue in the name, which remained tantalizingly out of reach.  
  
If only he could remember what the curse was called.....  
  
*  
  
It was later on the same day. Harriet and Diana had had to go to potions, so Vivian was lying alone in bed with a book, feeling slightly smug. There were benefits to being ill, she thought comfortably, sinking into the soft mattress.  
  
She was almost asleep when she was disturbed by the sound of running feet. A few seconds later, Lorna burst into the dormitory. She looked terrible; her eyes were red and her hair was streaked with dust.  
  
Vivian sat up in bed, temporarily speechless. Lorna jumped as she caught sight of her.  
  
"Oh, it's you." She said. Vivian could see she was making an effort to act normally. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"What happened?" Vivian asked. Tears welled up in Lorna's eyes, and began rolling down her cheeks. Vivian wondered whether to put her arm around her, and thought better of it.  
  
"What is it?" she asked gently. For an answer Lorna passed her a crumpled piece of paper.  
  
"I thought her really liked me." She muttered indistinctly. "And then the next day he sent me this."  
  
Vivian quickly scanned the letter - it was short, cruel and to the point: not only was Lorna dumped, she was dumped as painfully and humiliatingly as possible. The nicest thing Marcus had called her was a slag.  
  
"I don't believe it." Vivian said.  
  
"That's not the worst of it." Lorna said bleakly.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Lorna shook her head: she was crying again. Vivian made herself stand up and put her arm round her. It was strange and slightly horrible to see Lorna's complete loss of self-possession.  
  
"Don't let it get to you." Vivian said, "It's him who has a problem, not you. You mustn't let him know he's got to you."  
  
Lorna gave a weak smile.  
  
"You sound like a magazine." She sat down on the bed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.  
  
"I don't know what's come over me." She continued, "I never get this worked up over boys." There was a pause, as Lorna tried to tidy her hair. Vivian watched her with concern.  
  
"So what else happened?" She said at last. Lorna sighed.  
  
"You might as well know. Everyone else will. I went completely mental when I got the letter; I just took off. I was hiding in one of the closets near the defence against the dark arts classrooms -"  
  
"Good hiding place." Vivian commented, trying to cheer her up. "So what happened next?"  
  
"Well I was writing Marcus a letter, asking him what I'd done wrong, and it must have been time for potions, we have it around now on a Tuesday, and Snape must have realised I was missing, because he went looking for me.  
  
"Uh oh." Vivian said.  
  
"Exactly. The first I knew of it was when he yanked open the cupboard door and started yelling at me."  
  
"Didn't you explain?" Vivian asked indignantly.  
  
"Yes." Lorna's face twisted, she was trying not to burst into tears again. "I said I had some personal problems, which was a really stupid thing to do, because then Snape took my letter off me. And then he made me read it."  
  
"What?" Vivian gasped, "The one you wrote to Marcus? In front of the whole class?" Lorna nodded grimly.  
  
"They all found it hysterically funny of course. I don't want to think about it. The worst thing was, Marcus was there."  
  
Vivian felt a surge of anger. Her friend, usually so happy and outgoing, had been reduced to a pitiful, tear-drenched wreck because of Marcus Fowler and his colossal ego.  
  
Lorna lifted her tear-stained face to Vivian's.  
  
"I can't stand thinking about it." She sobbed.  
  
Vivian passed her a tissue from her bedside and tried to comfort Lorna as best she could. Eventually Lorna stood up.  
  
"I should go. They'll all be up in a minute." Vivian understood: Harriet and Diana were nice, but they weren't really the best people to see if you were in trouble as they both had a weakness for gossip.  
  
"Go to the hospital wing." Vivian suggested, "Say you've got a migraine."  
  
"Thanks." Lorna gave Vivian a grateful look and left. Vivian noticed that she walked with her head bowed, and her shoulders bent; her confidence had suffered a huge blow.  
  
Alone again, Vivian moved to the window, and looked out at the darkening grounds.  
  
"They're not going to get away with this." 


	10. 

10.  
  
Snape couldn't sleep. It was something he was used to, he had suffered from insomnia since he was a child; usually he would get up and read - there was something satisfying about being awake when the rest of the school was asleep. But tonight he couldn't settle. Images chased through his fertile brain: he saw Claudia, her face alight with exquisite malice, the mark on Vivian's wrist and her white unconscious face, the wall where Mrs Norris had been found, bearing the message of the heir's return.  
  
He was annoyed with himself. He had acted foolishly, he thought as he stared into the small fire in his bedroom. He was ashamed of loosing his temper with Lorna; usually he prided himself on his self-control. It had also been a cruel act, to humiliate her in front of the class. He felt a small pang of remorse, which he quickly suppressed.  
  
The truth was, Lorna reminded him vividly of those girls who had laughed at him when he had been at school, who had made fun of his greasy hair and love of books. He had remembered the lonely hours spent at school balls, watching the others dancing: this had caused him to lash out.  
  
Snape stood up, and got back into bed. Insomnia or not, he needed his rest if he was going to begin research into the curse tomorrow. He looked round his room, which was a pleasant, homely place, rather at odds with the gloom of his office, but there was no one to realise this - Snape kept his apartment in Hogwarts very private. On his desk he had a picture of Claudia, which he had never been able to bring himself to throw away, although it pained him every time he looked at it.  
  
How can you prefer loving her memory, which is agony, to loving anyone else?  
  
The question slid into his brain as if someone had spoken it. Irritably he told himself to be quiet, but the question continued to haunt him, even into his dreams.  
  
*  
  
In the dormitory, Vivian, Harriet and Diana were also awake. They were sitting on a rug in the middle of the room, wrapped in their duvets. Harriet and Diana had been first incredulous and then livid at the way Snape had treated Lorna, and after Vivian had played Lorna to sleep, they decided to think up a way to pay him and Marcus Fowler back.  
  
"Why don't we just curse them both?" Diana asked in an angry whisper.  
  
Harriet nodded enthusiastically, but Vivian was more sceptical.  
  
"If we do that, who do you think they're going to suspect?" she demanded. "Everyone knows about what happened to Lorna, and Snape's not exactly our favourite teacher, is he?"  
  
"So what do you have in mind then?" Harriet asked eagerly.  
  
"I don't know." Said Vivian, "Something so that we don't get caught, obviously."  
  
"So curse Snape and make it look like Marcus did it." Harriet suggested.  
  
"Of course!" Diana said.  
  
"I still don't understand why he just dumped Lorna like that." Vivian said thoughtfully, "Why would he ask her out in the first place?"  
  
"Who cares?" Diana said, "We need to come up with a plan, not sit here talking about him."  
  
Vivian put the question out of her mind, and began thinking about how they could get revenge on Snape. This was easier said than done: half an hour later, the three of them were still without a plan. Eventually they decided to sleep on it.  
  
"Whatever it is, it has to be really clever," said Diana, "something appropriate."  
  
"So them up on a blind date ..." said Harriet, ".with each other!"  
  
"Yuck!" said Diana, "I really don't want to picture that!"  
  
"I don't know," said Vivian, "I think they're made for each other!"  
  
After the others had fallen asleep, Vivian sat in bed, thinking. She could afford to be up late, as she would be spending the next day in bed anyway: Madam Pomfrey was completely stumped by her symptoms and had decided that she should stay in bed as a safety measure, especially since soup and fruit was all Vivian could manage to eat without vomiting.  
  
What had happened to Lorna mattered more to Vivian than to the others. Lorna was her first real friend after all; she was also angry with herself for the small stab of attraction she had felt towards Marcus at first, who, as she reminded herself sternly, had never even shown the slightest interest in her. Vivian decided that the plan would be her own. And it would be clever, diabolically clever. Hopefully Snape would know it was she who had done it, but he wouldn't be able to prove anything. This thought pleased her.  
  
She sat there for about half an hour, completely motionless, staring into nothingness whilst her brain worked. Then at last she lay back on the bed with a small sigh of satisfaction.  
  
"'Tis engendered." She said to herself with a grim smile, and fell asleep immediately, amused by her own ability to quote Shakespeare at moments of crisis.  
  
*  
  
Vivian could afterwards remember little of her dream. She was standing in the forbidden forest; a unicorn lay before her with its head on her lap. She was gripping something metallic and cold. Then suddenly all she could see was the moonlight gleaming on her violin, so that it gleamed blood red. And then she saw Dumbledore's face, and heard him say: "Severus, she's -"  
  
And then nothing. 


	11. 

11.  
  
Vivian's plan was hampered by the fact that she had to stay in bed. The plan demanded a specific curse, one she was certain Harriet and Diana wouldn't be able to perform. She had toyed with the idea of summoning the dark mark, that would certainly give Snape a nasty shock, but it was too risky. Anything remotely related to death eaters would easily be traced to her. Instead, she had decided on the metuas curse. It wasn't particularly complex, but it was hardly ever used, almost obsolete in fact, and few people actually knew how to perform it. It was the curse Snape had taught her when she was a child: the curse brought fear: pure, undiluted terror. To the victim, the earth would suddenly be filled with demons. It was more terrible than an encounter with a boggart, because in this case the curse affected the victim's mind, like a breath of madness.  
  
The neatness it appealed to her. The curse only lasted around half an hour, and although it was dreadful whilst it lasted, Snape surely deserved it. And hadn't he taught it in the first place? Looking back, Vivian was had been shocked, she couldn't have been more than five or six when Snape had taught her the curse, it had been most irresponsible – or perhaps it was the death eater equivalent of handing over a tube of smarties.  
  
When she woke up the next morning, Harriet and Diana were standing by her bed both fully dressed.  
  
"So?" Diana said.  
  
"Have you thought of anything?" Harriet asked eagerly.  
  
Vivian sat up and looked at them.  
  
"Sort of." She said. "I thought of a really good curse we could use." She explained about the metuas curse, omitting the fact that Snape had been the person who had taught it to her, as this would lead to awkward questions about her mother.  
  
"Cool!" Diana said, but Harriet had doubts.  
  
"Isn't it a bit dangerous?" she asked hesitantly, "I mean, you won't damage him permanently will you? That could really get us into trouble…"  
  
"Don't you want to get back at Snape?" Demanded Diana.  
  
"Yes, it just seems a bit… drastic, that's all."  
  
"Look, the curse only lasts about half an hour." Vivian said reassuringly, "It won't do any lasting damage."  
  
"Well, I suppose he was horrible to Lorna." Harriet admitted.  
  
"Well that's settled then." Diana said, "Now how do we make it look like it was that git Marcus?"  
  
"Well…" Vivian began, "I thought maybe we could take advantage of prior incantato."  
  
"Whatever that is." Harriet said.  
  
"It makes a wand regurgitate the last spell it performed." Vivian explained, rather impatiently" So if we use Marcus' wand to perform the metuas curse…."  
  
"He gets the blame!" Diana finished.  
  
"That's brilliant!" Harriet said. "So how do we get hold of Marcus' wand?"  
  
"I haven't quite worked that out yet." Vivian admitted. "I'd say whilst he was asleep, but it'll be really hard to get into his dormitory…"  
  
They all nodded. They didn't even know which dormitory Marcus slept in, and getting in there and taking the wand without waking him up would be almost impossible.  
  
Suddenly they all jumped as Lorna sat up in bed and asked  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Plotting revenge." Diana said, "Want to join us?"  
  
There was a brief interval whilst Lorna was told about the plan, and why they needed Marcus' wand.  
  
"So are you in?" Diana asked at last.  
  
"Of course." Lorna replied, her eyes glittering.  
  
*  
  
Meanwhile, Snape was having problems. He'd taken advantage of his day off to begin researching the curse, but he was having no luck. After all, nobody had been able to find out what the curse was when it had been inflicted ten years ago. How would he find out now?  
  
He was sitting in the library with a pile of books, a smoking cup of coffee next to him, when Dumbledore appeared.  
  
"Working on the curse?" he asked. Snape nodded. He felt irritated, as he always did when someone interrupted his reading.  
  
"Dedicated of you, this being your day off and all," Dumbledore commented. Snape took a sip of coffee.  
  
"I have nothing better to do." He replied shortly. "You know I don't go out much."  
  
"Well, I admire your conscientiousness." Dumbledore said, after a pause. Snape regretted being so frank. The last thing he wanted was people pitying him for his loneliness. But when he glanced up at Dumbledore, his expression was thoughtful rather than sympathetic. Dumbledore was weighing Snape up. He looked particularly miserable, Dumbledore though. How long was it since Claudia died? Ten years, far too long for a man to live in loneliness and regret. It was a pity, Dumbledore decided; Snape might not be good-looking, but he could be charming enough if it was worth his while. It was time to set him up with some intelligent witch who could look after him properly.  
  
Snape, blissfully unaware of Dumbledore's reflections, had recommenced his work, hoping Dumbledore might take the hint and leave. However, Dumbledore didn't move. Snape sighed and put down his pen.  
  
"Thank you for your help." He said with a note of finality, hoping this was the end of the conversation. It was not.  
  
"Have you considered interviewing Vivian yet?" Dumbledore asked. "She may know or remember things about when she was cursed, or even how. You ought to have a full list of her symptoms, anyway." Inwardly, Snape cursed his stupidity. How could he have missed such an obvious idea?  
  
"I hadn't thought of it, no." he said, "But it does seem like a good idea. Unfortunately the girl has a …dislike of me, some kind of childish prejudice. Perhaps we should have someone else interview her? Poppy for instance."  
  
"A childish prejudice?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"It's hardly unusual." Snape said. "I find teaching demanding enough already without trying to be a surrogate parent into the bargain."  
  
Dumbledore gave a faint chuckle.  
  
"I see your point." He said. "However, I think it will be much more beneficial if you interview her yourself. It's the only way to get all the information. Besides, it will be a wonderful opportunity to dispel her…childish prejudice."  
  
Snape looked, if possibly, even gloomier than before.  
  
"Very well." He said.  
  
"I'm going to tell Poppy to let her get up soon." Dumbledore said, "It's hardly fair on the poor girl keeping her in bed all the time, and I don't think it's doing her much good anyway. She needs to be with her friends, there may be hard times in store for her…"  
  
Dumbledore trailed off. Snape was surprised at the anxiety in Dumbledore's expression. He felt a small twinge of anxiety.  
  
"I'll ask Poppy to bring her to the Ravenclaw common room tomorrow, you can interview her there." Dumbledore continued, after a pause.  
  
"Right." Snape said.  
  
"Oh, and Severus?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"There's a wonderful pub just opened on Diagon Ally, called "The Manticore", I think, I think you should give it a try. They do the most extraordinary cocktails."  
  
"I don't think-" began Snape, but Dumbledore had already gone.  
  
*  
  
That lunch break, Harriet, who was good with a quill, wrote a note, in writing rather similar to that on Marcus Fowler's letter to Lorna, under Diana's, Lorna's and Vivian's instructions. It read:  
  
If you come to the third floor corridor outside the arithmancy classroom at one o clock tonight, you will find something to your own advantage, concerning Slytherin's heir.  
  
"Do you think he'll fall for it?" Diana said. "He may be evil, but he isn't stupid."  
  
"He'll come," Lorna said, "remember, he was hanging around outside when Vivian saw him? He'd do anything to catch Slytherin's heir."  
  
They had discovered Marcus Fowler's bedroom, or rather, Diana had discovered it for them, employing her (considerable) flirting talents on Robert, a rather unattractive boy who shared a dormitory with him. He had, naturally been bowled over by Diana's attentions, and with scarcely any encouragement told her everything she had needed to know….  
  
The plan was to happen that night.  
  
"The sooner the better." Lorna said. The others looked at her. Now that it came to it, they weren't really so set on revenge after all. The plan was rather harsh, even for Snape, and it could easily go wrong. However, Lorna was looking frighteningly in earnest.  
  
"Is this such a good idea?" Harriet said nervously, voicing everyone's doubts. "I mean, I've never heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong."  
  
Lorna silenced her with a look.  
  
No one else made any objections.  
  
*  
  
Back in his office, Snape happened to glance at his chessboard, and noticed that the pieces had been moved. Somehow he knew it had been Vivian. After all, she was allowed to come to pick up her potion each evening. Who else would have had the opportunity?  
  
Who else would have made such a clever move? He thought, as he examined the board more closely. He was in serious danger of loosing; and worse, to a brat of a girl he couldn't stand the sight of. It was more than his pride could endure. After a few minutes thought, however, he managed to move himself out of danger. 


	12. 

12.  
  
It was midnight the same evening. The four girls, all fully dressed, were discussing final plans in whispers.  
  
"Remember, we've got an hour." Vivian said.  
  
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Harriet asked. No one replied; they all felt a sudden surge of nervousness.  
  
"So me and Harriet go get the wand, then we pass it to Lorna through the window, and then she takes it to you and you curse Snape." Diana said, running through the plan. "I still don't see why we have to involve flying in this, it's going to be complicated enough already."  
  
Lorna sighed impatiently.  
  
"How else are we going to get the wand back when Snape raises the alarm? He might have people searching the corridors. We've no chance of getting past them and of getting back to bed in time."  
  
"Does everyone know what they're doing?" Vivian asked. They all nodded.  
  
"Let's go." Lorna said.  
  
Vivian made her way stealthily to the third floor corridor, were she concealed herself in the doorway to one of the classrooms. She had deliberately put on her black school robes, and was confident that no one would easily see her. Nearby where she stood was a window, which she flung open. This was where Lorna would come to bring her the wand. As she opened the window a gust of icy air blew back her hair. She shivered, it was a cold night, and she regretted not bringing a coat. Now she had to wait for Snape to come. If he came directly from his office, he should go straight past her, so that he had his back to her. He'd never see who cursed him. Waiting was the hardest part. Nervously, she waited, hoping nothing would go wrong. A few ghosts passed her, occupied with business of their own, but she backed into the shadows was unnoticed.  
  
Meanwhile, Lorna had climbed onto the windowsill, and mounted her broom. Harriet and Diana would find the wand and pass it through the window to her. Then she could take it to Vivian. She plunged into the icy night air, remembering her brief happiness when Marcus had asked her out. He'll be sorry, she thought, picturing his face when he realised what had happened. She circled the castle, waiting for Harriet and Diana to open the boys' dormitory window.  
  
Harriet and Diana hurried to the boys' dormitory, trying not to make too much noise.  
  
They were feeling rather elated. It seemed like an adventure, sneaking around the school at midnight. At last, inside the dormitory, they shut the door and began their search.  
  
"Lumos!" Diana muttered. Her wand lit up, and she began examining the beds to see which one was Marcus'. She heard Harriet doing the same on the other side of the room. It had been her idea to sleep each of the boys a delayed-action sleeping potion at tea, so that their search wouldn't be disturbed.  
  
After a few minutes they found Marcus' bed. Harriet stood over him, remembering Lorna's heartbreak, and all the insults Marcus had yelled at Lorna whenever they met. Then she reached and grabbed his wand from his bedside table where it lay. She hurried to the window, Diana behind her, and opened the window.  
  
Lorna caught sight of the light from their wands, and flew over and hovered outside the window. Harriet passed her Marcus' wand.  
  
"You took long enough!" she said, snatching the wand and flying off.  
  
Harriet and Diana exchanged glances.  
  
"Charming!" Diana exclaimed. Then one of the sleeping boys seemed to stir, and they fled.  
  
*  
  
Snape, of course, had his suspicions about the note. He had been an extremely successful spy, after all, and was far from stupid. He knew that anyone could have written it, it could be a trick from the heir of Slytherin, to get him on his own in order to attack him. But he would be on the third floor corridor regardless. The same overpowering curiosity, which had lead him into such danger when he had been a student at Hogwarts, drove him on.  
  
He did not go unprepared however.  
  
When he entered the corridor at five to one, he had his wand out and was carrying a small vial of dark indigo potion. If he were to throw the potion at someone, the fragile glass was designed to shatter, and the potion would produce instant paralysis, which would last for an hour or more.  
  
Vivian flattened herself into the doorway as he passed, and was not seen. Lorna, who had already passed Vivian the wand and was now hovering near the window to transport Vivian and the wand to safety, held her breath. Vivian felt she was almost in a dream, Snape's movements seemed to slow down, all she could hear was her own heart beating and Snape's soft tread down the corridor. For a second she hesitated.  
  
Then she raised Marcus Fowler's wand, and whispered "Metuas!".  
  
A blast of orange light hit Snape in the back.  
  
To Snape, it was as if he were suddenly transported to hell. Vivian saw him sink to the ground, clutching his head. He was shaking with terror; the chill fear took complete possession of him. The walls seemed to be spinning, and he saw the corridor lit up suddenly with flame. He was shrieking, and the sound of his voice was shrill and terrified.  
  
Vivian watching with horrible fascination, felt suddenly guilty. She had never expected the effects of the curse to look so severe. She stepped hesitantly towards Snape, without knowing what she intended to do. Then Snape looked up and saw her.  
  
*  
  
The walls shook, and the ceiling seemed to be coming lower and lower, as Claudia Slane stepped towards him. Snape, shaking uncontrollably, saw her move towards him, lit by the fire, which seemed to have engulfed the corridor. She was dressed in black; all he could really make out were her eyes, which shone in the light of the flames.  
  
"It's forever, Snape." He heard her say mockingly, "Remember? Eternal ills? She's cursed forever, just like you are, my love! How funny that you didn't guess." Then he heard her laughter, which had become suddenly hoarse and grating. "You didn't know! You're of all people! You've seen so much and you still didn't know!" she exclaimed through her dreadful laughter, and then Snape saw that where her eyes had been there was only darkness. Then she reached out to touch him with fingers, which suddenly seemed like fungus. He recoiled, tried desperately to flee, but still she advanced.  
  
Then desperately he flung at her the small vial of potion he had brought with him. She shrieked, and was gone in a whirling cloud of smoke. Snape sank to the floor, breathing heavily. Through his fear he heard a faint whisper close to his ear: "Malus infinitas". Then he passed out.  
  
Vivian cried out as the potion splashed over her legs and feet. She was lucky: had Snape's aim been surer, she might have been completely paralysed. As it was, she could just about summon enough strength to crawl over to the windowsill.  
  
"What happened?" Lorna hissed anxiously from outside, seeing her strange movements.  
  
"Never mind," Vivian whispered urgently, "help me on."  
  
With Lorna's help, Vivian managed to get onto the broom, after nearly falling out of the window a couple of times. Lorna flew Vivian straight back to their dormitory, where Harriet and Diana were waiting, before departing again to put Marcus' wand back.  
  
Vivian tumbled onto the dormitory floor, and heaved herself into bed using her arms.  
  
Harriet and Diana were looking at her in fear.  
  
"What happened?" Diana said.  
  
"It worked." Vivian said dully. "I cursed Snape. But he threw something at me. It splashed me, and now I can't walk."  
  
"Do you think it's permanent?" Harriet said in a horrified voice.  
  
"Was it a potion?" Diana asked. Vivian nodded. Diana gave a relieved laugh.  
  
"My mum works at the Ministry, she uses them all the time," she said, "they only paralyse you for about an hour. All you have to do is wait."  
  
Vivian sighed with relief. She hadn't been looking forward to life as a cripple. All the same, she was feeling rather deflated, and if Harriet and Diana's expressions were anything to go by, they were feeling the same.  
  
"Do you think it was worth it?" Vivian asked.  
  
Harriet shrugged. There was a pause.  
  
"I though it would feel better." Diana said at last.  
  
*  
  
The girls had expected that Snape would immediately give the alarm when he recovered from the curse, but he didn't. He was too proud to want anyone to see him in such a state. Instead, he walked unsteadily to his office, pausing from time to time to re gather his strength. Once there, he went to the basin and was sick until his stomach was empty. Then he magicked himself a glass of brandy, and lit a fire in the usually empty grate. He was still shaking uncontrollably, and was even paler than usual. His brain felt numb.  
  
He sat there for at least fifteen minutes, recovering his wits. At last, when his brain seemed less paralysed, he began to think. Someone had cursed him. Snape knew enough to realise that it must have been the metuas curse. Someone knew how to perform a practically obsolete curse, and had a motive for using it. Who? Was it Slytherin's heir? Why not just kill him outright?  
  
He knew he was distracting himself, because he didn't want to think about what had happened. He didn't want to picture Claudia as he had seen her. Still less did he want to think about what she had said. But it was important. He forced himself to recall what she had spoken about.  
  
Malus Infinitas.  
  
His brain shied away from it. But slowly, like a cold fog, the memories returned. Such an elegant curse, he thought bitterly, so sophisticated, so warped. It took lengthy preparation, he knew that much, although he hadn't the smallest idea how to perform it.  
  
It was Claudia's own curse. Not even the death eaters were happy to speak its name, even the few that knew how to perform it.  
  
Snape slumped in his chair, as he remembered what the curse did: it destroyed you for eternity. There were killing curses, things anyone might learn, but this was different. This curse was upon you and your descendents for all time. Anything connected with you would wither and die. People cursed directly were straight off, but it would take longer for their friends and family to die. The last thing you experienced before you died was the knowledge that everyone you cared for was doomed to share your pain and your death. You would die in wretchedness and be forgotten and leave no trace.  
  
Snape took another sip of brandy, his hands shaking.  
  
Vivian should be dead. She should have been obliterated.  
  
Was the curse only just beginning to work? 


	13. 

13.  
  
Vivian sat in the Ravenclaw common room. She was dressed warmly and wrapped in a blanket which Madam Pomfrey had given her, waiting for Snape to come and interview her about her curse.  
  
She was feeling understandably nervous. She hadn't seen Snape since she'd cursed him, and as well as feeling guilty she had a nasty suspicion he knew it was her who had done it. She tried to dismiss her fears: hadn't everything gone to plan? She had sent Harriet and Diana to knock over a couple of suits of armour near the Ravenclaw common room entrance, so that the curse would be traced to Ravenclaw house. And surely enough, after a long wait, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Snape arrived, and tested each wand to see if it had performed the curse. Marcus Fowler had been quickly singled out, and he was now suspended from lessons and awaiting punishment from Professor Vector, the head of Ravenclaw. Vivian felt a surge of pride at how effective the plan had been, accompanied by a slight feeling of guilt as she remembered how Snape had looked when she'd cursed him. Had she become like her mother without even realising it? A feeling of panic took possession of her.  
  
Vivian made an effort to think of other things to take her mind of her fear; instead she wondered what Snape was trying to find out about her curse for. Presumably because her health was deteriorating, despite the Bene Liquidas potion she was still taking. But what could he possibly find out from her?  
  
Her reflections were interrupted by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, accompanied by Snape. Apparently he had not relished the thought of a tête-à-tête with Vivian, and had got Madam Pomfrey to come with him.  
  
Snape sat down wordlessly in an armchair opposite Vivian's. Madam Pomfrey seated herself nearby.  
  
"You know why I'm here." Snape said brusquely. "I must warn you that Professor Dumbledore and I are seriously concerned about your health at present, and the headmaster will be writing to your cousin about it in due course. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to find out all I can about your ...ailment, so that we can discover why it is suddenly growing worse, and if possible, cure it."  
  
Vivian nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had been wondering what was wrong with her, but had tried not to think about it. Now she felt a wave of fear engulf her. Was she seriously ill? Quickly she tried to reassure herself. It was probably just hormones or something.  
  
Did Snape know it was her? She couldn't decide, his dark eyes were bent on the piece of parchment he had brought with him to take notes, and his face was as inscrutable as usual. She felt a grudging respect towards him; most people hit by the Metuas curse were laid up for at least a week and could barely stand for the first two days. Still, she reminded herself, he had been a spy. Maybe he had more endurance than most.  
  
"I'm afraid I must ask you to remember things which you may find painful." Snape continued, "I need to know everything I can about ... when you were cursed, anything you can remember."  
  
Madam Pomfrey saw a shadow of revulsion cross his face. It would be as hard for him to listen, as it would be for Vivian to speak. But he was determined to do what he had to unflinchingly. She felt a sudden pity for this strange, proud man, which she quickly brushed aside. She had never been particularly fond of Snape.  
  
Vivian tensed. Snape wanted her to talk about her mother, something she never spoke about to anyone. How could she sit there and tell him what he needed to know, in the knowledge that he had been a death eater, had probably loved her mother?  
  
Her attitude to her mother was, normally, rather cool and logical. She accepted her cousin Laura's explanation that her mother had loved her, but the love had been eclipsed by the evil in her mother's nature. It was thanks to Laura that she could accept both the good and evil in her mother, and remember without bitterness the times when she and her mother had loved one another and been happy. But when she was forced to lie in bed whilst the other children went to school and danced and ran and were happy and free, she would sometimes remember her with resentment.  
  
Snape was watching her, waiting for her to begin. She forced herself to speak.  
  
"I don't remember much." She said.  
  
"Please try." Snape said coldly, "For your own sake."  
  
"The night I was cursed...Mum had left us by that time. I was lying in front of the fire at home, with Dad, and then all I can remember is pain, like all my bones were splintering and Dad shouting. There was this silver light. Then I felt like I was being burned, and I got the mark on my wrist, and then ..."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Then everything went dizzy, and Dad tucked me up in bed. I couldn't see much; everything was blurred. I think he'd been crying. He kissed me goodnight, and then he left. That was the last time I saw him."  
  
Vivian was speaking almost in a monotone, her head bowed. She couldn't meet Snape's gaze, instead she stared at the floor. Snape's keen eyes saw her mouth twist almost in a spasm, and realised she was battling against tears. Her lack of sleep had taken its toll.  
  
If Vivian had looked up then she would have been surprised to see a look of pity cross Snape's face for an instant. But she was fighting to keep herself under control. These tears surprised her, she didn't normally cry when she thought about her father's death. She felt ashamed of herself.  
  
"How did the curse symptoms progress?" Snape asked.  
  
"I got weaker and weaker," Vivian said with an effort, "I had lots of headaches, sometimes I could hardly see. They thought I was going to die. But then I seemed to get a bit better, I just couldn't move well, I had to stay in bed."  
  
"And what recent changes have you experienced?" Snape continued.  
  
"I just seemed to be getting worse headaches and stuff, and the potion didn't help as much. Then I fainted and got all sick."  
  
Vivian leant her head on her hand, and tried to take deep breaths. She wanted to go back to her dormitory and sleep.  
  
Snape busied himself with taking notes for a few minutes, whilst Vivian regained control of herself. Finally she said  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
Snape looked up.  
  
"I think so." He said. "If there's anything else you remember, you know where my office is. Thank you for your time. Oh, and I'll need a sample of your blood for the mediwizards at St Mungo's, if that's alright." Vivian nodded. Snape produced a blue needle, and handed it to Vivian.  
  
"Just prick your finger." He said. Vivian gingerly obeyed. To her surprise she felt no pain, although her finger was bleeding profusely. Snape caught some blood in a small glass bottle. He would have healed the cut on her finger, but he was in no mood do be kind to her. Let her bleed, he thought nastily.  
  
Vivian moved to stand up, staggering slightly; Madam Pomfrey immediately got up to help her.  
  
"Are you having trouble walking?" Snape asked suddenly. Vivian started; Snape's potion had left her legs weak and almost useless, although they were no longer paralysed.  
  
"A bit." She said guardedly, "I've been in bed for days, my legs are weak."  
  
"She's being very brave," Madam Pomfrey added, "she could hardly walk this morning! It came on so sudden, I suppose it's all to do with this horrible curse...."  
  
There was a pause; Vivian wanted desperately to leave, but she couldn't get far without Madam Pomfrey's help. She had a horrible feeling Snape was making connections between last night's events and her sudden inability to walk. She could feel his eyes on her, and stared resolutely down at the carpet.  
  
"I suppose you're still feeling under the weather, Professor." Madam Pomfrey said kindly to Snape, in an effort to ease the tense atmosphere. "After last night's shocking events..."  
  
Marcus' suspension had been the subject of much discussion and rumour, but at Snape's request the matter was being kept as quiet as possible, and only the Ravenclaws knew all the details. This was helped by the excitement Harry Potter had caused by speaking Parseltongue at the duelling club.  
  
"I've felt worse." Said Snape, "And it's a relief at least to know at last who was responsible."  
  
Involuntarily, Vivian looked up at him. His expression as unfathomable as ever, but one glance into his shadowed eyes told her all she needed to know: he knew it was her.  
  
He can't prove anything, she thought to herself.  
  
"It's always good to see people get what they deserve, isn't it?" she said.  
  
"And most people do, eventually, "get what they deserve", as you put it." Snape replied. It was a warning, Vivian realised. Had she been entirely wise to start a vendetta against an ex-death eater who already had a grudge against her?  
  
"Is it ok if I go back to bed?" she asked abruptly. Madam Pomfrey said "of course", and together they began climbing the stairs to the dormitory.  
  
What could he do? He had no proof; her plan had gone almost perfectly.  
  
Snape, watching their slow progress upstairs, was pondering the same question. He examined his notes, wondering... How had she survived the curse at all? And why were they symptoms suddenly getting worse?  
  
Why did it have to be Vivian he had to help? His momentary sympathy with her had reverted to his previous anger. He was livid. The knowledge of who had really cursed him had seeped gradually into his consciousness, and now he was certain it was her. He was further infuriated by the lack of proof. He couldn't do anything to revenge himself. How dared she curse him, he who was trying to help her? Was the girl insane, or completely amoral?  
  
Then he remembered the girl, Laura or Lorna or whatever her name was. The girl he had humiliated in potions. She was Vivian's friend wasn't she? That would explain her motives.  
  
Well at least she's not insane, he thought.  
  
He was thinking deeply as he left the Ravenclaw common room and made his way towards his office. His thoughts were broken as he almost collided with Professor McGonagall, who was hurrying in the other direction looking rather agitated.  
  
"Severus!" she said, "There's been another attack..." 


	14. 

14.  
  
"Who was attacked?" Snape demanded.  
  
"Justin Finch-Fletchley and nearly headless Nick." Professor McGonagall replied, too harassed to call the ghost by his proper name.  
  
"They're both Petrified?" Snape asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
Professor McGonagall nodded.  
  
Snape groaned.  
  
"Bloody awful timing!" he exclaimed irritably under his breath. As if he didn't have enough to deal with at the moment.  
  
"Sorry?" said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
*  
  
It was midday before Snape had the opportunity to tell Dumbledore what he had discovered about Vivian's curse. He found the headmaster gazing out the window with his back to the door.  
  
"Sit down, Severus. I hope you're feeling better." He said, without turning round. Snape seated himself in front of Dumbledore's desk.  
  
"You've found out something about the curse?" Dumbledore asked after a pause, turning to face Snape.  
  
"It's Malus Infinitas." Snape said flatly.  
  
Dumbledore gave him a sudden piercing look.  
  
"Claudia's curse?" he asked. Snape nodded.  
  
"She shouldn't be alive." He said, "You know what Claudia was capable of."  
  
Dumbledore seemed lost in thought for a moment. At last he said  
  
"Does Vivian know?" Snape shook his head.  
  
"I'm not the person to tell her." He said, "Anyway, I didn't want to alarm her."  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"I don't think we should tell her just yet." He said. "But she must know soon..."  
  
Snape returned to the matter in hand.  
  
"The situation makes no sense." He said. "The girl should have died." Dumbledore said thoughtfully:  
  
"So there must have been something different in how the curse was inflicted-"  
  
"-or something different about the victim." Snape finished. "I don't know what to do next." He continued, "We're dealing with the impossible." He felt a wave of hopelessness sweep over him. Only with Dumbledore could he show how baffled and discouraged he really was.  
  
"Our very existence is impossible, Severus." Dumbledore said. "But in this instance I think the solution may lie in Vivian herself. She's a talented girl by all accounts, very gifted. Her parents, after all, were exceptional. There may be a clue there...but at the moment the best course is to send a sample of her blood - I presume you took a sample? - " Snape nodded "-to St Mungo's as soon as possible. And the best thing you can do is to go upstairs, have a hot bath and go to bed. You're obviously exhausted, and there's nothing more you can do whilst you're recovering from that curse. Nasty business, by the way."  
  
Snape nodded.  
  
"I'll live." He said. He wondered whether to tell Dumbledore his suspicion about who was really to blame, but decided not to. He had no proof after all, and there was no guarantee he would be believed.  
  
"I'll send the sample of her blood to St Mungo's tomorrow," he said. Dumbledore nodded approvingly.  
  
"They'll tell us what we need to know." He said. He gestured to a paper, which lay on his desk. It was Vivian's admission paper to Hogwarts.  
  
"Curious that Miss Leroux's middle name should be Estella," he mused, with a whimsical smile, "rather suggestive, wouldn't you think? I wonder...She has power...yes...if she had been damaged..."  
  
"What is it?" Snape asked. Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
"Just a thought." He said. "'A star danced when I was born.'" He added softly.  
  
*  
  
Vivian, lying upstairs in bed, had little to do but wonder about what was wrong with her, what Snape was planning on doing next. Tomorrow she would be allowed to get up, no doubt Snape would be especially nasty to her in lessons, but she had a feeling he might use other ways to get his own back as well. It would be like him, she thought. Well she would just have to be on the look out. After all, it was only a few days until the Christmas holidays, maybe by next term Snape would have forgotten about it.  
  
About an hour later, Harriet and Diana came in, chattering about the recent attack. With them was Hermione Granger, who they said had asked to come and see Vivian to see how she was.  
  
Harriet and Diana sat on one of the beds, talking between themselves, whilst Hermione went over to Vivian's bed.  
  
"How are you?" she asked curiously. "I would have come before, but I've been so busy lately..." Vivian wasn't to know Hermione was busy preparing a polyjuice potion to get inside the Slytherin common room, if she had she would have been very interested.  
  
"I'm fine," Vivian said, "actually I can get up tomorrow."  
  
"Won't you have missed lots of work?" Hermione asked.  
  
"No, Diana's been bringing me her work, so I have all the notes on what I'm supposed to have studied. She thought I was mad..."  
  
Hermione smiled.  
  
"Just sensible." She said.  
  
"I suppose you know all about those rumours, then?" Vivian said, feeling faintly curious. Everyone was talking about Harry Potter's newly discovered ability to speak Parseltongue, everyone was saying he was the heir of Slytherin, especially after the recent attack on Justin and nearly headless Nick; Vivian didn't think it was at all likely, but she seemed in a minority.  
  
At Vivian's words Hermione looked suddenly serious.  
  
"People are so stupid!" she exclaimed, "As if Harry could possibly be Slytherin's heir! It's ridiculous!"  
  
Vivian nodded.  
  
"I didn't think he was." She said, "He just doesn't seem convincing as an evil psychopath."  
  
"Well I'm glad someone thinks so!" Hermione said. "As if Harry hasn't had enough to deal with!" with an effort she changed the subject. "But what happened with Marcus Fowler? I heard Professor McGonagall say something about it, but no one in Griffindor knows why he was suspended. "  
  
Vivian wondered whether to tell Hermione what had really happened, and decided she didn't dare.  
  
"He cursed Snape." She said, "I can't say I blame him, myself."  
  
Hermione nodded, but her face was serious.  
  
"I know Snape's a nightmare, but I think Marcus must have done something awful, everyone's being so secretive about it. Snape is a teacher, after all. You can't just go around cursing teachers because you feel like it."  
  
"Or even because they deserve it." Vivian added. "You're probably right though."  
  
There was a pause. Vivian was feeling rather uncomfortable. What would Hermione say if she knew who had really cursed Snape?  
  
"I thought you might need some light reading, so I got you this from the library." Hermione said, after a short pause, producing a book from her bag. "Seeing as you've got that strange curse of yours and all..."  
  
Vivian looked at her sharply.  
  
"How did you find out?" she asked.  
  
"It's obvious really," Hermione said airily, "I mean you've obviously got something wrong with you, everyone knows you've been ill. Well your father was a brilliant auror, so that suggests a curse, if he was dealing with You-Know-Who's supporters. And there's your skin - I've never seen anyone as pale as you, ever."  
  
"Neither have the Slytherins, apparently." Vivian replied. "They've been calling me "Paperface" since I got here!"  
  
"You've just got to ignore them." Hermione said sympathetically. "They're probably just jealous. They've had it in for Harry since he came here, but you've just got to ignore it. That's why I first got the book out actually, I thought there might be something in it about his curse or why he survived or something."  
  
A bell rung somewhere in the castle and Hermione looked at her watch.  
  
"I'd better go." Hermione said, "Merry Christmas! Have a good holiday if I don't see you." Vivian, like almost everyone else at Hogwarts, was going home for Christmas.  
  
"You too." Vivian said, "Merry Christmas!"  
  
As Hermione left, she turned over the book she had left. On the cover were the words: "So you've survived a curse - what now?"   
  
Absently she opened the book, and found herself staring at a picture of her mother. 


	15. 

15.  
  
Most of the other students had already left. Vivian was waiting in the entrance hall, she had asked to be allowed to be collected by car, as Lucy couldn't spare the time to leave her pupils for a day to drive down to London to pick Vivian up. Anyway, they only lived about half an hour from the school; it was easier to drive.  
  
She was still holding the book Hermione had leant her. She had read the section on her mother over and over again, but she still wasn't sure she'd taken it all in. Each time she read the description of the Malus Infinitas curse, she compared the mark on her wrist to the one pictured in the book with a feeling of disbelief.  
  
So now she knew what her mother had done to her. By rights, she shouldn't be alive. Her mother had wanted her dead, obliterated. She remembered Lucy's comforting words: her mother had been maddened by grief, hadn't known what she was doing. But from what she'd read about the Malus Infinitas curse, she could tell it wasn't a curse you could just do on the spur of the moment. It took deliberation, coolness.  
  
Her mother had really hated her. She was annoyed with herself for feeling it so sharply, even after all this time. What had been in her mother's mind when she cursed her? Had she ever cared about her at all?  
  
*  
  
Snape was sitting gloomily in the dungeons. He was feeling particularly vindictive: he'd just passed Vivian and Lucy on the way to their car. Vivian, doing her best to hide her feelings, had seemed lively and cheerful, she and Lucy laughed as they made their way through the grounds. She was wrapped in a thick winter coat and a cheerful scarf, the cold weather had brought a tinge of colour into her cheeks, for an instant she had looked almost radiant.  
  
What right did she have to go off looking so happy, as if she didn't have a care in the world? He thought irritably. It was he who had all the trouble of researching her sickness; he was the one who had to puzzle over Dumbledore's cryptic comments. It was something that had always irritated him, he realised, Dumbledore's habit of making mysterious remarks and refusing to explain them.  
  
Bringing it home to the rest of us that we're not omnipotent, he thought sourly. He knew he was doing Dumbledore an injustice, but he was feeling too irritable to care.  
  
As if on cue, the door to the classroom opened, and Dumbledore came in.  
  
"Still marking, I see." He said.  
  
"And supervising." Snape said, indicating a corner of the classroom, where Marcus Fowler was serving part of his detention by scraping dried potions off the desks. He had not been expelled, thanks to his parents, who were influential school governors, and also thanks to Snape, who had exerted all his influence to get Dumbledore to allow him to stay. It was his duty, he thought, not to let Vivian have it all her own way.  
  
Dumbledore interrupted Snape's thoughts by saying:  
  
"I came to ask if you'll be attending Christmas lunch, it would be such a shame if you missed it, and we really need someone to keep Hagrid off the eggnog..."  
  
"You know I loathe things of that sort." Snape said shortly, "I'm sorry Albus, I just don't think I could face it this year."  
  
Dumbledore nodded gravely.  
  
"I understand." He said. "You're recovering from a particularly nasty curse, and I suppose you've never been much of a raver."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A raver. Partygoer. Dear me, I seem to be picking up all kinds of Muggle phrases, must come of reading their newspapers. Minerva always did say it was madness. Oh well, I'll leave you in peace. Merry Christmas!"  
  
"Merry Christmas." Snape said half-heartedly, and Dumbledore was gone.  
  
There was a sudden clatter, Snape looked up to see Marcus Fowler had dropped the bottle of Mrs Skower's All-purpose Magical Mess-remover he had been using.  
  
"Sorry." He said in a sullen tone, when he saw Snape looking at him.  
  
"Never mind." Snape said shortly, then following a sudden impulse he said:  
  
"It wasn't you who cursed me." Marcus looked up at him. His eyes were full of resentful intelligence.  
  
"No. Someone framed me. But I don't know who."  
  
Snape studied him thoughtfully.  
  
"Can you really think of no one? No one who had a grudge against you? Someone you'd injured recently? A girl, perhaps?"  
  
Marcus gave a start, as if he'd just had a sudden revelation.  
  
"It couldn't have been, not Lor-"  
  
"-No names!" Snape snapped. "But I think you're right. And it's most likely this person had help. She has friends, I believe. Some of them are admittedly rather clever. Logically, it would seem that some of them were involved."  
  
Marcus seemed to be thinking rapidly.  
  
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "I dumped her..."  
  
Snape felt a strange feeling of revulsion as he looked at the youth; he almost regretted what he'd done. It was hardly the sort of thing a teacher ought to have done. He knew exactly what Professor McGonagall would say if she found out. Once a bastard always a bastard, he thought with a twisted smile. But there was nothing he could do now. Marcus left soon after, after thanking Snape profusely, his mind already intent on revenge. Snape was left alone with his thoughts, and a familiar feeling of self-disgust.  
  
*  
  
That night Snape found sleeping difficult, even more so than usual. After tossing and turning in bed until midnight, he finally fell into an uneasy doze.  
  
He couldn't remember afterwards which one of them it was in the dream, Claudia or Vivian. He was lying on the ground in a wood somewhere. It was night. He knew somehow that he was helpless, his wand was lost, his leg injured. Then he saw the figure of a woman silhouetted against the sky, her long hair floating in the breeze. Her laughter was low and gentle. She was coming nearer and nearer, and he realised with a stab of horror that she was going to kill him as he lay there helpless, and there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
He tried vainly to crawl backwards away from her.  
  
She stood over him, he knew without seeing that her eyes were green, almost luminous in the moonlight. She looked down at him, staring intently into his face; all he could see was shadow. He suddenly vulnerable, as if she could see through him, into the darkness that lay beneath. She knelt down beside him. He had the impression of a snake, coiling itself to strike. Then suddenly she took his hand, and raised it to her lips.  
  
Then he woke up, and lay there, cursing softly to himself in the darkness. 


	16. 

16.  
  
"I don't see what you're so keen to get back for." Lucy said irritably, as she opened the car boot. "And if you think I'm carrying this for you, you've got another think coming!" she added, indicating Vivian's trunk, which completely filled the boot.  
  
"No problem." Said Vivian, pulling out her wand. She muttered a few words and the trunk was suddenly weightless. She picked it up and laid it on the ground with a supercilious air.  
  
"Show off." Lucy said in mock-anger. Then suddenly her face became serious. "You will take care, won't you? I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, letting you come back with all these attacks going on and everything. Not to mention that letter from Dumbledore about your curse…You'll take it easy, won't you, until they find out what's wrong with you?"  
  
"Of course," Vivian replied reassuringly, "it'll be a great excuse for when I've forgotten to do my homework."  
  
"Just don't get into trouble." Lucy said. Then she added. "I suppose now I've said that you'll get into all kinds of trouble and break about fifty rules or something."  
  
"Probably." Vivian agreed. She was looking forward to seeing her friends again. She and Lucy headed up towards the school, Vivian carrying the now weightless trunk. Little did she know that there was trouble in store for her of a most unexpected kind.  
  
  
  
Marcus Fowler could be patient. It was no good getting revenge on a group of people when half of them were away on holiday. Lorna had also gone home for the holidays, and she was his chief target. Only not that she and Vivian were back could he act.  
  
He was not planning a grand revenge scheme. He was cleverer than Vivian had given him credit for, but he was incapable of a grandiose plan of revenge like the one they had inflicted on him and Snape. What he had in mind was something rather simpler.  
  
It took a while for the four of them to notice. Harriet and Diana weren't the most observant of people at the best of times, and Vivian was rather preoccupied waiting for her test results to come back from St Mungo's. Dumbledore had assured her that it was normal for results to take months to be returned, but she couldn't help worrying. So it took them a couple of days to realise that they were the victims of a hate campaign.  
  
It began small: a couple of books missing, a nasty letter. But then things became more drastic. Marcus was rather popular, and there were several people in Ravenclaw who were all too happy to join in any persecution that was going. The malicious pranks became more and more frequent, until one morning Lorna came down to breakfast with her hands bandaged and a miserable expression.  
  
"Was it…?" Vivian began. Lorna nodded.  
  
"Undiluted bubotuber puss in my bag." She looked as if she might burst into tears. "I don't think I can take much more of this."  
  
They had quickly worked out who was responsible. Marcus didn't care whether or not they knew, they couldn't prove anything, he always made sure of that. What could they do to stop him?  
  
"We can't go on like this." Vivian said, buttering her toast. At that moment Marcus and a few of his unpleasant cronies passed them; one of them looked at Lorna and said something; the others laughed unpleasantly.  
  
"This is my fault." Lorna said. "I wanted to get revenge. Now we're all in trouble and it's because of me."  
  
"No." Vivian said. "It's my fault. It was my idea. I didn't think he'd be able to work out it was us. "  
  
"We were all in on it." Harriet said. "It's nobody's fault."  
  
They talked for a while about ways that they could stop Marcus, such as getting him expelled or causing him to "accidentally" break his leg, which were fun to think about even if they were impossible. But as the weeks progressed they felt less and less like laughing. The pranks continued, growing increasingly worse. They were beginning to become desperate. Marcus had somehow managed to convince more Ravenclaws that they deserved to be bullied; although most Ravenclaws were still friendly there were more and more who either blanked them or sniggered nastily whenever they went past. Lorna was beginning to have a haunted look, and talked about leaving at the end of the Easter term if things didn't improve.  
  
  
  
Snape was beginning to feel guilty. Not the heavy, sickening guilt and self-loathing that had plagued him for the last decade, but a fresh addition which he found particularly irksome. It was impossible not to notice that Vivian and her friends were looking miserable and harassed. Snape, adept at picking up on things which passed most of the other teachers by, had soon discovered the cause. So now he had Marcus' hate campaign on his conscience as well as everything else. "Everything's my fault, isn't it?" He though savagely, as he watched the dejected four slink out of potions one afternoon.  
  
Vivian's visit each evening to collect her potion became something of an ordeal for him. She looked paler than ever, and hardly spoke a word to him. It occurred to him that Marcus' treatment could be having a bad effect on her health. It wouldn't take much to push her over the edge, he mused, she was clearly becoming weaker as the days wore on.  
  
Vivian was all too aware of this. As the Easter term progressed, she spent more and more time in bed. The others joked that she was skiving her classes, but they were worried. Despite Vivian's protests, they could tell she was far from well. At least when she was in bed there was no danger of her meeting Marcus. Every day she regretted her actions more and more.  
  
Lucy had obviously picked up on the fact that her health was getting worse, because she had begun writing worried letters to Vivian, asking her to come home. Vivian wondered absently whether it wouldn't be for the best. But life at Hogwarts was so much more colourful, more interesting that anything she'd ever experienced. At home, lying on a couch all day, she knew she would be stifled.  
  
Snape knew he had to act, if only to make himself feel better. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he had been both unprofessional and mean. Just as you might expect an ex-death eater to be in fact. He had to prove he'd changed.  
  
  
  
Snape left the owlery at around midnight, feeling ridiculous yet faintly satisfied. It seemed ludicrous that he of all people should be sneaking around arranging for secret notes to be delivered to students. It was like something out of a farce…  
  
In the corridor he passed a couple of Hufflepuff third years deep in conversation. He caught a brief snatch of conversation-  
  
"- he said he'd be here at eleven, he must have stood me up…"  
  
"I never liked him anyway, you're miles too good for him-"  
  
They broke off abruptly as they caught sight of Snape.  
  
"Fifty points from Hufflepuff." Snape said calmly, without even stopping his walk. "And don't wait for a boy for more than ten minutes, it makes you look desperate." He stalked past them; glaring at them as he passed and climbed the stairs to the dungeon feeling a lot better than he had for ages.  
  
  
  
The next day Vivian received an owl, which she failed to recognise as one of the school owls. Inside was a faded photograph, on the back of which was scrawled: "Blackmail is such an ugly word…"  
  
She showed it silently to the others. Diana and Lorna exchanged glances, while Harriet said, "Isn't that…?" Vivian nodded.  
  
"Marcus. I can't tell who he's with; the picture's too blurred. But it doesn't really matter. Someone's saved our lives."  
  
"I can't believe it…I can't believe that's him…" Loran said quietly. Vivian looked at her.  
  
"I wonder where this came from." She said. "I mean incriminating photos don't just grow on trees do they?"  
  
"Who cares?" Harriet said. "So what are we going to do with it?"  
  
"Well tell Marcus that unless he stops that we're going to show this picture to the entire school, stupid." Said Diana.  
  
"Well I'm not doing it." Harriet replied. "I wouldn't dare. He might go mental and start cursing me!"  
  
"I'll do it." Lorna said. Vivian thought of protesting, but the look in Lorna's eyes told her it would be useless.  
  
"I didn't realise Marcus was-" began Harriet, and then stopped as Diana nudged her. Lorna got up from the table and walked away, still clutching the photograph. 


	17. 

17.  
  
After that, things ought to have got easier. Despite her illness, Vivian was still managing to get excellent grades, much to her friends' disgust; Marcus was avoiding them, and whenever they met he would eye them maliciously and say nothing. Lorna was evasive when they asked her what had happened between them, but she seemed much happier, and her old sparkle was beginning to return. Vivian decided it was time to relax a little, and try to recover her strength.  
  
But she was reckoning without events beyond her control. At Hogwarts, the atmosphere was growing more and more tense as the weather grew warmer, Slytherin's heir had not been caught, and people began to look at each other with suspicion. Vivian was almost glad when the Easter holidays arrived, and it was time to go home. This time she was going home on the Hogwarts express, as she and Lucy needed to meet in London to consult a doctor whom Dumbledore had recommended. "Until the test results arrive from St Mungo's arrive we can do little," he had written to Lucy, "but Professor Dean is an extremely distinguished physician, and I hope that he may be able to do something for her."  
  
Vivian was in fact growing extremely irritated with St Mungo's. "It's been weeks!" she would exclaim angrily to her friends, who could do little apart from make sympathetic noises. It became an accepted fact that Vivian would spend most of the afternoons in bed, and Lorna made a habit of bringing Vivian her notes to copy. She hated the feeling of powerlessness, of having to rely constantly on others. She wasn't sure she could put up with it for much longer.  
  
  
  
Professor Dean was nothing if not succinct:  
  
"There is little I can do for the girl without the results, which you say have not yet come." He said to Lucy, stroking his beard, which was long and black. "I will do what I can." He continued.  
  
After examining Vivian's eyes, measuring her fingernails and asking her about her dreams, he sat silently for a few moments, gazing out of his window into the bustle of Diagon ally below.  
  
"Um, is there anything you can do?" Vivian asked timidly after a moment. Professor Dean started and looked piercingly at her.  
  
"You are still taking the Bene Liquidas potion?" he asked. Vivian nodded. "Well keep taking it. But in addition, I suggest you try this." He produced a packed wrapped in brown paper from his desk. He handed it to Vivian, and she caught a faint fragrant scent.  
  
"What is it?" Lucy asked curiously.  
  
"Tea." The professor replied shortly. "Take it once every two days. It will help."  
  
"How?" Vivian asked. They two adults turned and glanced at her, as if they had not expected her to speak.  
  
"It will not make you strong again, but it will help against sickness and dizziness." Professor Dean replied. "It will also produce deep and dreamless sleep, which benefits body and mind alike. This is all I can do in the present circumstances to relieve the symptoms. Come back when you have the results, and we will talk further."  
  
Lucy and Vivian both rose to leave, the Professor took Lucy's hand and shook it. They he looked at Vivian.  
  
"Until we meet again." He said softly. Vivian thanked him awkwardly, and turned to go.  
  
"Be careful." He said softly, as the door closed behind them.  
  
  
  
Jenny Ravell of St Mungo's eyed the pile of papers on her desk with weariness. As the most junior member of the staff, it always fell to her to take care of all the mail, a task which could often take the best part of a morning. Now she faced the pile of letters that needed to be sent with dejection.  
  
Then something purple caught her eye at the bottom of the pile. A thick purple envelope addressed to Hogwarts. Jenny sighed. Purple was used in the hospital to indicate an urgent letter or despatch, but due to some oversight the letter seemed to have been filed with a pile of unimportant post, and had been delayed.  
  
Jenny swore, and, seizing the letter, marched off to find a fast owl.  
  
Some distance away, Vivian was preparing to return to school.  
  
  
  
She was not in a particularly happy mood. She and Lucy had just had a blazing row. Lucy was determined that Vivian remain at home; it was, she insisted, complete madness to go back to Hogwarts in Vivian's condition, especially considering that Slytherin's heir was still at large. Vivian agreed with all this, but what she found hard to explain to Lucy was that Hogwarts had in some way become her home, her friends were extremely important to her, perhaps because she had never had any before. And there was something else, something vague but persistent, a feeling that she had to return to Hogwarts, that something was drawing her back there, whether she would or no.  
  
When she finally arrived back at Hogwarts, and had parted somewhat coldly with Lucy, she wondered whether or not she had done the right thing. An atmosphere of fear had gripped the school, Harriet and Diana refused to go anywhere alone, and Lorna advised Vivian to remain in bed as much as possible, as in her weakened state she would be particularly vulnerable to the Heir of Slytherin.  
  
Snape, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines, had said curtly that since it was hardly safe for her to be wandering the corridors in the evening, he would bring Vivian the Bene Liquidas potion in the Ravenclaw common room. He hardly seemed to hear her when she thanked him; he seemed particularly silent and absorbed at the moment, as were many of the teachers, and his bursts of nastiness occurred more frequently.  
  
It was his nature, when worried, to take it out on others, and more than once he had to suppress a furious outburst against Professor McGonagall or some other colleague. He felt extremely harassed and concerned. Dumbledore, who, he reluctantly acknowledged, was the one person he could turn to in trouble, seemed rather preoccupied, although this could hardly be wondered at.  
  
  
  
In May, the final blow fell. The rumours that Dumbledore had been sacked were proved correct. Nobody could really believe that he was gone. Most of the Hogwarts students were debating whether or not to leave, and everyone seemed particularly twitchy.  
  
Harriet had left a few days after Dumbledore did, on the instructions of her father, a forcible man, who had ordered her to return home despite her protests. She had parted tearfully with her friends, but Vivian thought she could discern a trace of relief in her expression. After all, she thought, it was understandable: Harriet's mother was a muggle, so she might be counted as one of the Heir of Slytherin's victims, and since she had no choice about staying or going, her leaving couldn't be counted as disloyalty.  
  
Snape, shepherding a class of reluctant third years to Divination a week after Dumbledore's departure was accosted by Professor McGonagall in her capacity of temporary headmistress:  
  
"I'm rushed off my feet Severus," she said immediately, and indeed she looked it, her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, "I was wondering if you could take care of Dumbledore's mail? There's so much to deal with at the moment.  
  
"Of course." Snape had replied, more gently than was his wont. But when he got back to his office he sighed, knowing that he was in for a lot of extra work.  
  
The purple envelope lay innocently under a pile of letters on his desk, and waited. 


	18. 

18.  
  
Vivian pushed open the door cautiously. Snape was sat at his desk, a mound of papers in front of him.  
  
"Don't pester me." He said irritably, without looking up. "The report hasn't come."  
  
"I was just wondering; it's been quite a while."  
  
"Well it hasn't arrived yet. I'll tell you when it does. Now please leave me in peace."  
  
Vivian rolled her eyes in exasperation and left, banging the door behind her as loudly as possible.  
  
Snape felt a sudden surge of guilt. It had been two days since he had discovered the purple envelope and what it contained. He had read the report with disbelief and a sense of dread. Since then he had become more nervous and harassed than ever. He had not told anyone what he had discovered, not even Professor McGonagall, whom he was afraid of worrying even more.  
  
She doesn't need this now, he thought, and I certainly can't tell Vivian. The last thing we need is a hysterical teenager to deal with.  
  
He regretted Dumbledore's departure even more than usual at that moment. Dumbledore, he reflected, would have known exactly what to do; he would have known whether or not Vivian should be told. He felt a faint pity for her, for what he knew she would have to endure.  
  
Snape shrugged. It was done now. There was no point in causing a disturbance with matters as they were. He checked the draw of his desk was locked before he left for his next class.  
  
He had not reckoned with Vivian taking matters into her own hands.  
  
  
  
She had been irritated and puzzled by the delay; surely it didn't take this long to analyse a blood sample? She was grumbling about this for the umpteenth time in late June when Lorna suddenly said  
  
"Why don't you write and ask them why they're taking so long?"  
  
"Yeah, do something about it instead of just winging to us." Diana added crossly. She had become more irritable since Harriet had left.  
  
"Maybe I will." Vivian said.  
  
A week later she came up to her friends as they played wizard chess in the common room holding a letter and looking puzzled.  
  
"What?" Lorna asked, catching Vivian's expression.  
  
"Check." Diana said, without looking up.  
  
"I wrote to St Mungo's to ask what was taking them so long." Vivian said.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And they wrote back and said that they'd sent the report weeks ago by one of their fastest owls."  
  
Diana and Lora both stopped playing to look at her.  
  
"I think they got the results and they're awful, and they're not telling me because Dumbledore's not here or something." Diana and Lorna exchanged worried looks; Vivian had clearly worked herself up into a state.  
  
"Don't be such a pessimist." Lorna said uneasily, "You don't know what the results are."  
  
"Why else would they lie to me?"  
  
They were both silent. After a pause, Lorna said  
  
"Sit down." Vivian sat down obediently in a nearby armchair. The worry seemed to have brought on an attack; she was shivering and even paler than usual. "You look terrible." Lorna said in concern, "Do you want some of that tea stuff you're taking?"  
  
Vivian nodded.  
  
A few minutes later, a cup of tea warm and comforting in her hands, she was able to make a decision.  
  
"I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall about it."  
  
"Snape, you mean." Lorna said. Diana and Vivian turned to look at her. "Well Snape's doing all the school mail, isn't he? Didn't you hear him grumbling about in potions?"  
  
"So I'll go talk to Snape." Vivian said.  
  
"Rather you than me." Diana said. "He's been really stressed recently, in case you haven't noticed. Can you imagine how he'll react if you accuse him of lying?"  
  
"I think you'd better wait until they catch Slytherin's heir, or until Snape's more cheerful, whichever comes first." Lorna said.  
  
"I don't have to talk to him." Vivian said, "I could just search his office."  
  
"Are you MENTAL?" Lorna almost shrieked, causing several nearby Ravenclaws to look up at her reproachfully. "You must be mad," she continued in a quieter tone, "Snape's already got it in for you, and his office is probably booby trapped or something."  
  
Diana nodded her agreement. Vivian sighed.  
  
"Fine." She said resignedly. She'd just have to do it alone.  
  
It was several days before she could think of a way to get into Snape's office; she knew that he sealed his office with a spell at night, and anyway she'd had enough of midnight escapades, so she decided to carry out the search during the day. It was easy to find an excuse to be in Snape's office if she was caught: she could just say that she'd wanted to ask him whether the test results had come from St Mungo's. It was harder however to find a way in which she could get in there and have time to make a search.  
  
At length she decided that the best thing to do would be to pretend to be particularly ill (which wasn't hard to do, her health still being extremely poor) and then slip out of the dormitory when her year had potions with Snape. That way she could count on Snape being out of the way, as well as her friends, who were keeping a watchful eye on her.  
  
The possibility of meeting Slytherin's heir as she roamed the school alone had occurred to her, but she decided it was worth the risk.  
  
Two days later, it was time to put her plan into action. Everything seemed to go as planned; she managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that she needed a day off school, which wasn't difficult, and she was able to sneak through the deserted corridors to Snape's office, which she had gambled on being unlocked during the day.  
  
She had been right: the door swung open easily. The room was silent and empty. She had an uncomfortable feeling of being watched as she locked the door behind her and begun to search hurriedly through the papers on Snape's desk. There was nothing. Then she tried the drawers. One of them opened easily, but was full of paper, envelopes and ink, stored, she noticed, with fanatical tidiness.  
  
She tried the second drawer. It wouldn't budge. Vivian drew out her wand from her pocket.  
  
"Alohomora!" she whispered urgently. The draw remained obstinately closed. Apparently Snape had sealed it with some kind of charm as well as locking it. Glancing at her watch she noted that she only had half an hour left before Snape returned. Desperately she gazed round the room; she caught sight of something lying near the shut door; it seemed to be some kind of doorstop, in the form of a sizeable chunk of marble. Quickly she picked it up and smashed it against the side of the drawer.  
  
The crash sounded startlingly loud in the silent room, but after waiting for a few minutes with baited breath, Vivian decided that no one had heard. The drawer, she realised gleefully, was completely smashed through. Gingerly she tugged at it, and it slid open.  
  
It was full of letters, some opened some still sealed, all addressed to Dumbledore. She stared at them with mounting anticipation. This was it. Quickly she began rifling through them, until she caught sight of a purple envelope bearing the seal of St Mungo's; it had already been ripped open. With shaking hands, Vivian eased the letter out of the envelope. It was several pages thick.  
  
Rapidly she scanned the lines:  
  
"We regret to inform you … nature of the curse being as it is…the subject cannot be expected to live more than five years longer."  
  
She sat down limply in a chair. The letter, which she had not finished reading, lay forgotten on the desk. She was shaking with some kind of nervous reaction. Blankly she stared at the mark on her wrist. She was going to die. All she could feel was numbness.  
  
A bell rang somewhere in the school. It was the end of lessons. Snape would soon be heading back to his office. She stood up, and put the letter back in the drawer. Then, moving as if in a dream, she pointed her wand at the drawer and whispered "reparo". The drawer was complete and locked as if it had never been touched. Forgetting the doorstop, she picked up Lorna's broom and left, her gait curiously unsteady, as if she were suddenly blind.  
  
Somewhere, she thought, her mother was laughing. 


	19. 

19.  
  
The next day passed in a sort of dream. She didn't have the strength to go to classes; Lorna and Diana seemed to be treating her as if she were on the brink of the grave, which didn't improve her temper much. She hadn't told them about what she'd found, she didn't want to put it into words.  
  
The numbness began to disappear, and in its place she felt anger. Rage against those around her who could expect happy, normal lives, who had parents who loved them. It wasn't fair, she thought grimly.  
  
It was afternoon on the second day after Vivian had read the report when Professor McGonagall ordered all students back to their common rooms. Vivian, who had been lying in bed wrapped in a blanket, forced herself to go downstairs to the Ravenclaw common room and find out what was going on.  
  
The common room was abuzz with people talking in worried voices; most of them looked downright scared.  
  
Diana and Lorna came up to her looking grave.  
  
"What happened?" Vivian asked.  
  
"There's been another attack." Diana said. She was looking more shocked than Vivian had ever seen her. "Apparently the heir of Slytherin's taken someone into the chamber of secrets."  
  
"It's Ginny Weasly." Daniel Webster, another Ravenclaw fifth year said, coming over.  
  
"How do you know?" Lorna asked.  
  
"Well that's what everyone's saying."  
  
"They'll have to close the school." Diana said flatly. Vivian felt a sudden feeling of despair.  
  
"I can't believe it." She said stupidly, staring round at the pale and scared looking Ravenclaws. She had lost everything, she realised. If she was sent home from Hogwarts, she had nothing to look forward to except death.  
  
During the strange, miserable day that followed, Vivian could do little except pace the floor of her dormitory, wondering what she could do.  
  
Then she remembered: she had been about four or five; her father was reading to her from one of his books. She remembered the low, rhythmic sound of his voice, the crackling of the fire and the soft sound of the turning pages.  
  
"Unicorn blood," her father read, "will, if you drink it, restore you to life, even if you are on the verge of death."  
  
"Cool! Let's give some to granny," she had said. Her grandmother, her father's mother, was in very poor health. But her father shook his head gravely.  
  
"It's a terrible price to pay for life." He said. Even when he'd explained, how it was a terrible crime to slay a unicorn, she still hadn't grasped the concept of selfishness. Well, she'd been young then.  
  
"Maybe we've read enough for today." Her father said, putting the book back on the shelf.  
  
"I'm going to find a unicorn, and kill it," she had said unrepentantly, "and then granny will be well again."  
  
Her father had laughed ruefully, and from the other side of the room her mother had laughed too, the firelight glinting on her silvery hair.  
  
  
  
Now she smiled rather bitterly at the memory, and wondered what to do. She understood the implications of the act: what she would obtain would be a cursed life, and she knew that most people would not understand the reasons for her act. She felt a surge of horrified awe – could she really do something so terrible to secure her own life?  
  
I'm NOT going to die. She thought fiercely, clenching her fists. Not now, when life was suddenly so much more interesting. She reflected that her life had hardly been enviable. She had spent almost a decade as a hopeless invalid, and she had no intention of returning to that life.  
  
She gazed at the empty beds of her three friends, her mind made up.  
  
Franticly, she began to hunt round the room for certain books she had inherited from her mother. She flung them into a rucksack and, pocketing her wand, she reached under her bed and drew out her violin.  
  
"Dear Lorna & Diana," she scrawled hurriedly "I'm sorry. I had to borrow Lorna's broom-"  
  
Then she ripped up the note in disgust. She couldn't think what to say. She shrugged regretfully and, seizing Lorna's broom, clambered onto the windowsill.  
  
Five minutes later she was speeding over the darkening forest. 


	20. 

20.  
  
Snape, busy with his duties as head of Slytherin, felt a sudden twinge of foreboding. It was not for several hours that he had time to retreat to his office and make a much-needed cup of tea. As he headed over to the desk, his foot knocked painfully against something solid. It was the marble doorstop he had received from Dumbledore a few Christmases ago, before Snape had made it clear that he didn't enjoy either giving or receiving presents.  
  
What was it doing next to his desk? He shrugged, too tired to give the matter his full attention. It had been a long and gruelling day. He was exhausted, too tired even to feel regret for the school's imminent closure, or horror at Ginny Weasly's untimely end. All he wanted to do was to crawl into bed and sleep for at least a year. A clock chimed somewhere, and he realised that it was almost midnight.  
  
Instead, he would have to go round Slytherin and make sure that all the students were packed ready to leave in the morning. He sighed, and sipped mournfully at his tea.  
  
The next minute he had started up, knocking the tea over the desk, as Professor McGonagall burst in looking frantic, without even bothering to knock.  
  
"What the hell-" he began, but Professor McGonagall interrupted him  
  
"She's gone!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Who?" Snape asked,  
  
"Vivian Leroux. Her friends say they haven't seen her for hours."  
  
Snape felt a sudden surge of fear. He bent and examined the drawer of his desk. There were faint markings on it, as if it had been smashed and then repaired.  
  
"Oh God." He said, sinking back into his chair.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"The test results." He answered brokenly. "About her curse. They came back about a week ago; they said that she had about five years to live."  
  
Professor McGonagall seemed divided between anger and distress  
  
"Why was I not informed? Why was Vivian not told?" She asked furiously.  
  
"I didn't think you needed anything more to deal with."  
  
"Did you tell Vivian?"  
  
"Of course not! Would you have done? I wasn't going to tell anyone until…"  
  
"Until Dumbledore returned." Professor McGonagall finished. "I understand, however little I may approve. So you think that Vivian has somehow found out what was in the results?"  
  
Snape nodded.  
  
"She's been highly strung recently." He said. "We must find her as soon as possible."  
  
Professor McGonagall nodded, efficient once more.  
  
"I will organise a search inside the school and the grounds." She said. "Where else could she have gone?"  
  
"The wood." Snape said. "She might have gone there. I'll call on Hagrid and make a search of the forest."  
  
Professor McGonagall nodded,  
  
"Take care." She muttered, and hurried off.  
  
It takes considerable time and skill to catch a unicorn, especially when you want to kill it, and had Vivian not read about the subject before hand, she would probably have stood little chance. Vivian had been flying over the forest for some time before she came upon a likely looking glade. Then she sat down, spreading the books she had brought over the grass, and opened her violin. It gleamed in the light of the torch she had brought with her as an after thought; she laid it carefully beside the books. She lit several candles, and spread them in a rough circle. Then she drew out a knife, which shone cold in the moonlight, and stroked the blade.  
  
She sat down on the grass, and began to play.  
  
The music, coaxing and lovely, was as potent a call to a unicorn as she could devise. It called, subtly but insistently. It was not long unanswered. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, a glimpse of silver in the light of the candles. It was a young unicorn, it had not yet entirely lost the gold colouring of a foal, and more trusting than an adult might have been. It waited on the edge of the glade, hesitant and gentle. Softly, under her breath, she began to chant a spell as she played. The unicorn, enthralled but still wary, wavered at the edge of the circle.  
  
"Come on…" she whispered.  
  
The violin wailed with exquisite melody.  
  
The unicorn took a step into the circle. It was now trapped, although it did not yet realise it; according to the spell Vivian had read, after chanting the incantation, as long as the candles burned, the unicorn would be unable to pass.  
  
Softly, she ended the music, and laid the violin on the grass. A distant image returned to her: her dream. She shook her head, as if trying to elude a moth. There was no point being superstitious.  
  
"Come on." She repeated softly. The unicorn approached her, and with one graceful movement knelt beside her, resting its head on her lap. She felt a thrill of rapture she had never before experienced, and sat there without speaking, lost in the loveliness of the creature she had captured. The only movement was the gentle stroking of her hands on its soft mane.  
  
  
  
Snape swore softly. He had heard the music, and tried to follow it as best he could, but now he was hopelessly lost. He cursed his stupidity in getting separated from Hagrid; the half-giant's enormous strides had made it impossible for him to keep up, and as his pride forbade him from asking Hagrid to slow down he had soon been left behind.  
  
Suddenly he caught a flicker of light shining through the trees. Cautiously he made his way towards it, treading as softly as he could. Crouched behind a tree he squinted into the glade; the sight which met his eyes almost made him gasp aloud.  
  
Vivian was still sitting with the unicorn's head on her lap, stroking its mane. A shaft of moonlight illuminated her pale intense face and caught the silver streaks in her dark hair. Her head was bent over the unicorn, and Snape realised with a shock that she was crying, making no effort to stem the flow. Her face was the most wretched he had ever seen. The candles which marked the magic circle still had a while to burn.  
  
Underneath his fear and confusion, Snape felt slightly impressed. The charm Vivian had used was he knew extremely difficult. It was also illegal. He glimpsed the knife lying near where Vivian sat and realised what she was intending to do. The ruthless train of reasoning was clear. He debated inwardly what to do. If he tried to overpower her, she might be frightened into killing the unicorn before he could stop her; that would be a tragedy for the unicorn, and worse for Vivian. Besides, if he crossed the circle of light he might not be able to get out again; he was not sure how strong Vivian's magic actually was.  
  
Vivian raised the knife tentatively. At that moment Snape felt something move behind him. He turned, half expecting to see Hagrid, and found himself staring at a huge spider. Before he could think or move it had him, its pincers digging agonisingly into his chest. Dimly he was aware of Vivian jumping up and moving towards them, although she did not cross the circle.  
  
"Stupify!" she yelled, but the spell seemed to have no effect. "Stupify! Expeliarmus!" hit by the disarming charm, Snape flew from the spider's grip onto the forest floor several feet below. He saw the monster move towards Vivian, and, reaching for his wand, faintly cried  
  
"Stupify!" as Vivian cast the same spell. The combination of the two spells had the desired effect: the spider crumpled and fell unconscious to the floor.  
  
Vivian seized one of the candles which made up the circle, and made her way over to Snape. By taking one of the candles with her, she would be able to re enter the circle again.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked in a low voice, bending over him.  
  
"What do you think?" Snape said, in as strong a voice as he could manage. Bandages flew out of Vivian's wand and bound themselves around his wounds. Before he could stop her she had also bound his arms and legs together.  
  
"Don't do this." He gasped.  
  
"Do you want me to gag you as well?" she replied, making her way back to the circle, where the unicorn was now pawing the ground restlessly. When she had sealed the circle again she said  
  
"There's no point trying to stop me" She picked up the knife, and began soothing the unicorn. "I have to do this."  
  
"What do you mean, you have to?"  
  
"You wouldn't understand." She said. "You're not dying. I don't have a choice."  
  
Snape looked at her, his dark eyes staring intently into her face.  
  
"There's always another choice. When Voldemort was in power people did terrible things, betrayed their families and friends because they were afraid for their own lives. I know, I saw it happen. They all said they had no choice either. They lied. If you want to commit this crime then do it, but don't deceive yourself. There's always another choice."  
  
"I can't believe you can talk to me about Voldemort!" she said hysterically, "I know what you were. You were no better than my precious mother you seem so fond of!"  
  
There was a pause. Vivian felt a sudden stab of fear, although Snape was bound and helpless. This man could well have killed many times, had been a death eater. She knew it would not be wise to provoke him. Finally he spoke, as if restraining himself  
  
"It's because of what I was that I'm telling you this. I know what guilt is. Don't burden yourself with it."  
  
Vivian laughed shrilly.  
  
"Crime doesn't pay, is that it? If you loved my mum so much you should be glad I'm turning out like her!"  
  
She sensed suddenly that had he been free to move he would have slapped her. The unicorn stirred uneasily.  
  
"You are nothing like Claudia. Nothing." Snape said, his voice ominously quiet. "This crime is yours, you haven't inherited it. You make your own choices. I loved her, yes, but I knew her too, and she was evil. It didn't stop me loving her, but I saw her for what she was. You aren't like her, not yet. Don't make yourself like her."  
  
Vivian was silent. The tears were again flowing down her cheeks.  
  
"She wouldn't have cared. She'd have done it." She said, raising the knife again. "She never cared about me."  
  
"She did." Snape said. His voice was low, gasping, almost inaudible, he could feel himself growing faint, but he forced himself to continue. "I remember when you were born, she was beside herself, she bored the rest of us to death telling us all about you, what you looked like, how clever you were." Vivian said nothing.  
  
"You were a perfect family." Snape continued, his voice growing weaker, his face full of past and present pain. "Your mother and father were so close it nearly destroyed me. We envied you, all of us. And they loved you, they were always so proud of you."  
  
Vivian drew a deep shuddering breath.  
  
"She loved me, at first." It wasn't a question. The unicorn nuzzled against her, trying to stop her tears. The glade was silent apart from Vivian's stifled sobs. For both of them it seemed as if a long hurt had finally been healed.  
  
Silently, Vivian moved round the circle and blew out all the candles, tears running down her cheeks. The unicorn, instead of galloping away, bowed to her again.  
  
"Thank you." Vivian whispered. Then it was gone.  
  
She realised with surprise that it was morning.  
  
She stood, staring after it for a few moments, before turning her attention to Snape, who seemed in a great deal of pain. She loosened the bandages holding his arms and legs together.  
  
"Are you badly hurt?" Snape looked at her witheringly, and didn't answer. She realised suddenly that his robes were soaked with blood, and one leg was lying at an odd angle, as if it were broken.  
  
"Can you move?" she asked. He nodded, and tried to get up. His face contorted in a spasm of pain, and he sunk back onto the ground.  
  
"What shall I do?" she asked helplessly. Snape didn't answer, he had just passed out. Vivian marvelled that he could still sneer whilst unconscious, and wondered desperately what to do. Then, following some instinct she had not known she possessed, she loosened his robes and examined his wound. He had received a nasty gash on his shoulder which was bleeding profusely. Before she knew what she was doing she placed her hands on the wound.  
  
She felt suddenly as if she were conducting electricity, as if some power were flowing out of her, and looking down, she saw a light flowing out of her hands onto the wound. She felt a strange joy at the knowledge of a power she hadn't even known she possessed. As the sun rose further in the sky, she saw that the wound was completely healed.  
  
Before she could react to this she heard footsteps behind her.  
  
It was Dumbledore. 


	21. 

21.  
  
Vivian stared at him in amazement.  
  
"I thought you were away." She said stupidly. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"I was." He said. "But I have returned, in the knick of time by appearances. Hagrid told me you were somewhere in the vicinity. Now let's see what you've done to poor Professor Snape." She was relieved to see that he didn't look angry with her, although his face was serious. Dumbledore bent over Snape and said  
  
"You've done a good job here, Miss Leroux."  
  
"I'm sorry." Vivian said, gesturing to the remains of the circle of candles and the knife, "I was going to-" Dumbledore silenced her with a gesture.  
  
"Explanations can wait. We must get Professor Snape inside before he catches a chill. I must say you've put your powers to extremely good use. Madam Pomfrey couldn't have healed this wound better herself."  
  
"What do you mean, my powers?" Vivian asked. She was feeling extremely puzzled about everything that had happened.  
  
"Explanations can wait." Dumbledore said. "You evidently only read the first page of that report from St Mungo's."  
  
"You know about that?" Vivian asked. Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Now help me get Professor Snape indoors, and then we can talk."  
  
  
  
Several hours later, Vivian was sitting in Dumbledore's office wrapped in blankets and clutching a mug of hot chocolate. She looked at Dumbledore nervously, wondering if she was in for punishment or even expulsion.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said, breaking the silence.  
  
"What for?" Dumbledore asked. Vivian explained what she had done, how she had broken into Snape's office and read the report. How she had set off for the forest intent on killing a unicorn to save her own life, and what had happened there.  
  
"Are you going to expel me?" she asked. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"What can I expel you for?" he said. "All you have actually done is enter the forest without permission, which considering the amount of students who make a habit of it is hardly a reason to expel you."  
  
"I don't know if I would have done it, if Snape hadn't turned up."  
  
"We none of us know what would have happened." Dumbledore said. "I suggest you put it behind you."  
  
"I don't see how I can. I've got five years to live, that's what the report said."  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"I won't lie to you." He said, "The worst case scenario is that you will only live for five years more. But I must stress that this is far from certain. With determination, who knows what you can achieve. You must see that it matters not how long you live, but how you live."  
  
"I don't understand." She said.  
  
"You, for instance, have lived far more during this one year at Hogwarts than you did in the decade you spent as an invalid. It is our experiences that matter, not how long they last."  
  
Vivian was about to say anything when there was a knock at the door. Before Dumbledore could say anything, Snape came in, leaning on a crutch.  
  
"I don't think you should expel her." He said faintly. "She has not actually committed any crime. In fact she practically saved my life." Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"I assure you Severus, I have no intention of expelling Miss Leroux. For one thing It will be a great credit to the school to contain one of the few modern day Portenti, don't you think?"  
  
Snape looked at him.  
  
"Is it true?" he said, "I thought…"  
  
"Please tell me what's going on." Vivian said. "What am I?"  
  
"One of the Portenti." Snape said, as if this explained everything. Vivian looked baffled.  
  
"Did you ever read the Greek myths?" Dumbledore asked. Vivian nodded. "Well, they're true." Vivian laughed.  
  
"Not literally of course." Dumbledore went on, "But even the Muggles became aware of the existence of the Portenti, these immensely powerful beings, and they explained them by worshipping them as gods."  
  
"So I'm a god?" Vivian said incredulously. Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
"The Portenti are not gods. They will die, but their powers are always passed on. Only part of them is immortal. Portenti are extremely rare nowadays, and perhaps it is a good thing. In ancient times many used their powers in ways which were not intended, for evil, and caused great destruction."  
  
"Then the power is granted to help the rest of mankind." Vivian said. Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"I think that is why you were born." He said. "In our greatest need – facing Lord Voldemort – a Portentus should come to our aid. However, something went wrong."  
  
"The curse." Snape said. He was pale, and looked as if he might collapse any minute.  
  
"Shouldn't you be in the Hospital wing?" Dumbledore said, but Snape shook his head irritably.  
  
"What did the curse do?" Vivian said.  
  
"It damaged you." Dumbledore said. "My guess is that it almost destroyed your earthly body, but couldn't kill the power you contained. The body you now inhabit is the weakest possible vessel for the power you inherited. That is why you are so weak, and why you have suffered as you have."  
  
"And why I'm dying." Vivian added. Dumbledore looked at her sympathetically.  
  
"I think Professor Dean might have something to say about that." He said. "Now go and get some rest, and we'll talk again tomorrow. And that goes for both of you." He added, looking at Snape. "But as you've both been out all night you'll be rather behind on the news; you'll be glad to know that the heir of Slytherin had been caught, and Ginny Weasly is still alive."  
  
"How-" Vivian asked, but Dumbledore looked at her with mock severity and said  
  
"Bed first, news afterwards."  
  
Snape looked as if he was about to argue, but at that moment Madam Pomfrey burst in looking rather harassed and dragged him away to the Hospital wing.  
  
Vivian was about to go when something occurred to her.  
  
"Snape – I mean, Professor Snape- said that I wasn't like my mother. But I almost killed a unicorn. I could have been cursed forever."  
  
"You could have been cursed forever." Dumbledore said. "But you aren't. You almost killed a unicorn. But you didn't. True goodness doesn't lie in not being tempted towards evil, but in resisting the evil impulses within us. You're your father's daughter, Vivian, as well as your mother's. Now get yourself to bed before I change my mind about expelling you."  
  
Vivian made her way to her dormitory feeling curiously happy. Maybe she was beginning to accept what had happened, or perhaps she was just too tired to feel anything. As soon as she reached the dormitory she kicked off her shoes and flung herself into her bed, without bothering to take off her clothes.  
  
Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she had left Lorna's broomstick in the forest. 


	22. 

22.  
  
The Hogwarts express had left, Vivian, who was going home by car, had already said goodbye to Lorna and Diana, both of whom seemed slightly shocked by what had happened to her, but had been extremely supportive during the last few days of term, although Lorna had made a point of Vivian getting her broom fetched from the forest on the earliest opportunity.  
  
Hogwarts was quieter than normal, as Dumbledore sat in his office with Lucy Slane. She had taken the news quietly but seemed determined to do everything in her power to fight Vivian's illness.  
  
"It isn't set in stone, is it, that she'll only live five more years?" she said. Dumbledore could hear her holding back tears in her voice, and said gently  
  
"Not at all. Vivian is stronger than she realizes, and she has you. It will be a battle, but …death is a worth adversary."  
  
Lucy was wearing a determined look; similar to one Dumbledore had seen Vivian wear.  
  
"I won't let her die." She said.  
  
"She's lucky to have you." Dumbledore said. He gazed out of the window for a few moments to allow Lucy to regain her composure. Outside, two figures were pacing the gravel in front of Hogwarts. Snape, his black robes blowing in the breeze, was walking with a slight limp, the only real sign of his broken leg: Madam Pomfrey had swiftly healed it.  
  
Dumbledore noted with faint surprise that with him was Vivian, her long hair blowing out behind her in the summer breeze. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Vivian's expression was half way between happiness and pain. Lucy followed Dumbledore's gaze with a puzzled expression.  
  
"Isn't that the Professor Snape you were telling me about? I thought they loathed each other." She said.  
  
"I think they've settled their differences." Dumbledore replied with a smile.  
  
"Whatever can they find to talk about?"  
  
"I should imagine that Severus is telling her about her mother."  
  
Lucy looked at Dumbledore in curiosity.  
  
"He knew Claudia?" Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"It's a long story." He replied.  
  
Below on the terrace, Vivian said something to Snape, who smiled, an expression not many of his students had ever seen him wear. Dumbledore turned away with a thoughtful expression.  
  
Perhaps the story was just beginning.  
  
1 The End  
  
Thanks to all the lovely (&discerning) people who reviewed this, I hope you like the ending. There is a sequel, as you can probably guess from the ending, which I'm in the middle of writing at the moment  
  
All comments appreciated, nice ones especially 


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